If She had Loved Him
by Shella DragoNoid
Summary: When Christine replaces La Carlotta in a gala, she is swept up in a world of fame and fortune. She has caught the eye of an old childhood crush, Raoul. But Christine's heart might not belong to Raoul any longer as she begins to fall for the mysterious masked man living deep under the Opera Populaire. (Disclaimer: I own nothing Phantom of the Opera related)
1. The Gala

**Authors Note: **This is my first attempt at a Phanfic. I've loved the Phantom of the Opera (2004 film) since I first watched it nearly eight years ago. I can watch it over and over again without getting sick of it. However, I do believe it would have been better if Christine had ended up with Erik in the end, despite the things he had done. And so, I present to you If She had Love Him, my take on the 2004 film.

Please try to leave constructive criticism as gently as possible, as I am still new to "Phanfiction". I do appreciate the pointers you could give me.

**If She had Loved Him**

**Shella DragoNoid**

**1. The Gala **

When Madame Giry had offered Christine Daaé's name to replace the lead Soprano, La Carlotta at that night's gala, she had been terrified. Carlotta, though a diva with a terrible temper and even worse attitude, had been the lead Soprano for years at the Opera Populaire. Christine was just a chorus girl, as Monsieur Andre had been so kind to point out. Yet, when she had stepped forward and began to sing, the room had gone dead silent. Actors who had disappeared backstage after Carlotta's diva tantrum returned in awe to hear a chorus girl who had hidden in the shadows for years step forward and begin to sing like an angel.

After her unexpected audition, Christine got caught in a whirlwind of activity. She found herself in La Carlotta's dressing room, her hair and make-up being done. Seamstresses were working as fast as they could to fit what would have been Carlotta's gown to Christine's petit size. Madame Giry might have been at her side for a moment during the craziness, but she had been pulled away quickly; the ballerinas still had to be prepared for that night's gala.

When her hair, make-up and dress were finally done, the house had already opened. Guests wearing fancier clothes than Christine had ever dreamt she would wear flooded through the open doors, up the steps, and into their seats. She was standing backstage, wringing her hands, when Madame Giry approached her for the first true time since she had given Christine over to audition to replace Carlotta.

"Are you nervous, my dear?" Madame Giry asked, her eyes narrowed with compassion. The elderly woman hadn't meant to put Christine on the spot – the young ballerina had been like a daughter to her – but she knew what great talent Christine had been hiding, and wanted her to be discovered so her talent wouldn't go to waste.

"Yes, Madame," Christine answered honestly. She swallowed. "I've never had any real practice with the number for the aria, I'm an unknown voice, and everyone out there is expecting Carlotta to be singing tonight."

"You shouldn't be nervous, Christine," Madame Giry said, placing her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Just remember what you have learned from your teacher."

"Madame Giry, I don't have any idea who my tutor even is," she said, exasperated. "How do I know what he taught me is what I need to know?"

"You must have faith, my dear," Madame Giry smiled affectionately. "You will do very well tonight, I promise you."

"And if I don't?"

Madame Giry shook her head. "You will do fine."

"Mademoiselle," a stagehand said as he grabbed Christine's arm. "It is time."

Christine cast one last desperate look over her shoulder at Madame Giry before putting on a smile. The curtain opened and she stepped on stage.

She couldn't even begin to imagine the audience's shock at seeing such an unknown girl on the stage. This was _not _Carlotta. This was _not _what they were expecting. This was _not _what they paid for. In frustration, those that weren't mesmerized by this strange girl's beauty – the white dress and star barrettes in her hair caught the fire of the stage lights beautifully – climbed to their feet, ready to demand their francs back. Then, she opened her mouth and began to sing.

_Think of me._

_Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye._

_Remember me once in a while please promise me you'll try._

_And when you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free._

_If you ever find a moment, stop and think of me._

Her Soprano voice was beautiful; it carried all the way to the back of the opera house; the high notes she hit came out clear and pure, not strained and screechy. It was definitely _not _what the people had paid for; it was better. Those that had started to leave wordlessly sat back down, staring wide-eyed at the stage.

The song continued, and Christine found herself having more and more fun. As she reached the final chorus, she heard a voice call from above her in Box 5. The unidentified man shouted down at her, "Bravo!" and clapped louder than most in the audience. His praise gave her strength to add extra power to the last few verses. When the aria finished, the audience didn't sit in stunned silence as she had expected, but immediately climbed to its feet; a standing ovation. Flowers were thrown onto the stage at her feet.

Unable to keep the smile off her face, Christine bowed, letting the applause wash over her.

The next few minutes passed by in a blur. So many people were congratulating her on a surprisingly job well done. Christine may have been in the limelight on stage – and been okay with that – but now that she actually had to meet with these people face-to-face…she felt uncomfortable. As soon as she found a quiet moment, she slipped into a back room and up a flight of stairs.

She fled to her quiet place, as she called it. Here, a picture of her father was waiting for her. Every night before she went to sleep, she would sneak up here and light a candle for her father to respect his memory. She did this now, bowing her head and whispering a prayer. Her prayer was interrupted by a man's voice calling out to her quietly, "Brava, brava…"

It wasn't the same man who had been sitting in Box 5; this man's voice was different…it was hard for her to describe. Shocked at hearing someone's voice in her quiet place, her private place, Christine looked around her, eyes wide. It could only be one person.

"Angel?" she whispered. "Is that you?"

"Christine?" this time, it was a girl's voice calling to her. "Christine, are you here?"

The man's voice, her angel's voice, whispered, "Christine…"

As his voice faded, a young girl about Christine's age with long, blond hair and pale skin entered the room. She smiled when she saw her childhood friend sitting before her father's altar. "There you are. Christine, we've been looking for you for hours."

"I haven't been up here for hours, Meg, only a few short minutes."

Meg slid to the ground next to Christine. "It doesn't matter. You shouldn't be hiding up here. You're the star of the gala; everyone is saying you're even better than La Carlotta." She leaned in closer and whispered, "They think _you _should be Opera Populaire's new leading Soprano."

Christine laughed. "After only one gala? Meg, that's ridiculous. Carlotta has years of experience on me, as well as talent."

"Not according to our audience. They seem to think that you have more experience and even greater talent." Meg studied the picture of Christine's father. "I have to ask Christine. I've never seen anyone suddenly be able to sing like that. You must have an instructor, a tutor of some kind… Who is he?"

"I'm not sure, Meg. All I know is that before my father died, he promised that after he'd gone to Heaven, he would send me an Angel of Music. This angel would be only _my_ Angel, and he would protect me, watch over me." Christine wasn't sure why she was sharing this now. She hadn't told anyone, not even Madame Giry who had been the only mother Christine had ever known.

Meg watched her quizzically. "Do you think it's the spirit of your father?"

"I'm not sure, Meg…but who else could it be?"

Before their conversation could continue, Madame Giry entered the room.

_Does everyone know of my quiet place? _Christine thought in despair.

"My dears," Madame Giry hissed impatiently. "You are being looked for everywhere. Meg, you know better than to hide away after a gala. And Christine…as the star of tonight's performance, you definitely should be out there!"

"Pardons, Madame Giry," Christine responded, bowing her head. "I just… I don't like all the attention…"

Madame Giry pulled Christine to her feet after helping Meg up. "I am sorry, my dear, but you best get used to it. If things go the way I'm imagining they will, you will be receiving a lot of attention in the next few days."


	2. The Man in the Mirror

**2. The Man in the Mirror**

Madame Giry had escorted Christine back to her room and sent away several suitors, which Christine was very grateful for. Finally alone, she collapsed back into a chair sitting in front of a vanity. Christine eyed herself in the mirror, and found she hardly recognized herself. Her chocolaty brown hair, usually kept in check, was now out to its full poof, bouncing buoyantly on the crown of her head. She had never before worn so much make-up; she felt that she looked more like a clown than a lead singer for a gala. And the dress…it was nicer than anything she'd ever worn. The white fabric fell in delicate folds and glistened in the candlelight. As nice as it was, it wasn't her.

She began taking the barrettes out of her hair, and was interrupted when the door opened. "Madame Giry should have told you," Christine called from the vanity, "I'm not receiving suitors tonight."

"Are you sure you can't make _one _exception…Little Lotte?"

Christine turned, her eyes wide. Standing in the doorway was a familiar man with shoulder-length, sandy hair. He was dressed in a fine suit and was holding a bouquet of pink flowers. "Raoul… I mean…" she breathed, "Viscount de Chagny, I am honored that you decided to come support Opera Populaire's first gala under new management."

"Oh, Little Lotte," Raoul said with a smile, "there's no need to be so formal. Not after tonight, how you performed…" He put the flowers on a table that was full of other flowers – gifts from her many suitors. The dressing room was full of bouquets. "You know, Little Lotte, I was surprised when I heard you sing tonight. I seem to remember when you were younger, you could hardly sustain a pitch. Now… I hear you may replace Carlotta as the lead Soprano."

"I'll tell you the same thing I told Meg," Christine turned her attention to the vanity and continued taking barrettes out of her hair. "It is ridiculous that Monsieurs André and Firmin would want to replace Carlotta after only one gala. She has been leading Soprano for nearly five seasons."

"Yet you have more talent in one finger than she has in her whole body. At least, now you do. I still remember your father having to plead you to get you to stop singing you were so bad."

"Viscount, that is no way to talk to a lady," she said, watching him in the mirror. He was studying her with a strange look; Christine couldn't tell if he was looking at her with warm care, or cold passion.

"Forgive me, Little Lotte," Raoul came and stood behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You sang more beautifully than the angels."

Christine smiled at the thought. "Interesting choice of phrasing, Viscount, considering it was an angel who taught me."

"An angel?" he scoffed. "And didn't I tell you you don't need to be so formal?"

"Yes, an angel. And despite what you may think, Viscount, you are still highborn and I…I am a chorus girl."

Raoul pulled her chair back, came around, and knelt in front of her. His eyes bore holes into her skull as he stared at her with that same, strange gaze. "No chorus girl I've ever met could replace a leading Soprano as flawlessly as you. You are much, _much _more than a chorus girl." He took her hands in his, rubbing the back of them with his thumbs. "Please, Little Lotte, call me Raoul."

Christine bit her lower lip, feeling uncomfortable, but nodded anyway. "As you wish…Raoul."

He nodded his approval. "Perhaps it's time for you to change, Little Lotte. We should head to dinner now."

"Dinner?"

"Of course, Little Lotte, we must celebrate our triumph."

"_Our _triumph?" Christine asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Yes; yours in being discovered as an amazing singer, and me… Well, I made a good investment deciding to keep this place open, didn't I?" With that, Raoul climbed to his feet and started towards the door. She followed his progress to the doorway with unbelieving eyes. "Just a few minutes, Little Lotte, or the best restaurants will close."

As he left, Christine turned to look at her reflection again. This _couldn't _be Raoul. Not the Raoul that she had grown up with. _Her_ Raoul had been and been sweet and caring; this Raoul was cold, calculating, and bordering on cruel. She shook her head; she was being ridiculous. There must be a lot of pressure on the poor Viscount's shoulders. He must have taken a risk in deciding to patron for Opera Populaire; he was simply worried that his investment would go bad and his family would lose money. It never occurred to her how little sense this made; the Opera Populaire was the most known and most attended opera house in all of Paris

She smiled, reassured with her thought that Raoul was simply under pressure. Christine quickly finished changing. She selected a simple white dress to change into; it was perfect for the weather and company she would be keeping that night. It was not too tight as to be uncomfortable or overly warm, but not to light as to have her look underdressed or cold. As she was running a brush through her hair, she began to feel uncomfortable; as if someone were watching her.

Curiously, she turned around to see a large, full-body mirror standing against the back wall of the dressing room. Something about the mirror was strange. Christine started towards it, and studied it closer. _Interesting… _She thought. _Almost as if I can see right through this to a tunnel beyond…_

She reached a hand out and gripped the frame of the mirror. Before she could pull it back, she saw a figure coming toward the mirror. She turned quickly; there was no one behind her. Whoever he was, he was coming from within the mirror. Fearfully, Christine fell back, tripping over the leg of a chair. Shooting upright, she looked into the strange mirror. The figure was still there; and it was coming closer. Christine swallowed and pushed herself to her feet.

The figure had come even closer; she could see that it was a man wearing black clothes and a cape that had white under layer. He was wearing what appeared to be a mask that only covered half of his face. He came closer and closer, until he was standing right on the other side of the mirror.

Christine turned and ran for the door, but before she could turn the handle, his voice called to her. "It is alright, Christine; I mean you no harm."

She knew that voice. That was_ his _voice… "Angel?" she whispered, turning.

The man had entered the room through the mirror which opened like a door, but he had come no further into the room. Christine's breath caught in her throat. It was true that he was wearing almost all black; the back of his cape was black like the rest of his clothes. His hair was slicked back, and was the same dark black of his clothes. He was pale skinned, and had eyes that were deep pools of green. This strange man was, in a word, handsome. The only thing that seemed off about his appearance was the white mask that covered only half of his face.

"I am he," the man whispered back to her. Even in a whisper, his voice carried across the room. He took a tentative step towards her. Christine didn't move. "Forgive me, Christine, but you are even more beautiful without all of that silly stage makeup. If only I could project your natural beauty to the audience without all of that paint…"

Christine blushed under his praise. Under normal circumstances, she would have felt uncomfortable being complimented in such a way by a man she hardly knew. But with this one man, it felt…right. "You are the one…the one who has coached me?"

He nodded. "I raised you from where you were. Your voice when you arrived showed certain...promise; it needed only a good teacher to help perfect it. And now, you have finally been able to share your gift with the world."

"I owe you much, monsieur," Christine said. She was unable to take her eyes from his.

"I want to show you something, Christine." He held a gloved hand out to her. "If you will come with me," his eyes pleaded her to say yes.

And how could she say no? This was the man who had given her voice wings and allowed her to fly. She had no right to turn him down. In addition, he seemed kind enough. He spoke to her gentler than Raoul had when he had come to congratulate her. Without hesitation, Christine closed the distance between herself and this man and took his hand.

As he led her through the mirror, a story nagged at the back of her mind. A story Madame Giry had told her when she had first come to live and train at Opera Populaire… What was it? The man took her down a hallway lined with torches held in three-clawed hand sconces. As he led her deeper into the dungeons of the opera house, the title of the story returned to her.

Madame Giry had called it he Phantom of the Opera.


	3. The Phantom's Lair

**3. The Phantom's Lair**

She remembered the story now. Madame Giry had told it to her as a child so she wouldn't go exploring in the night when she was meant to be sleeping. "Bad ballerinas who leave their rooms after lights out are taken by the evil Phantom of the Opera and never seen again. Some say he eats them, others say he raises them for a while before killing them."

"What does he look like, Madame Giry?" Christine has asked.

"He wears dark clothing so he may blend into the shadows; the only thing on him that is not black is the mask that covers only half of his face," Madame Giry had responded. "Do you want to be taken by the Phantom?" Christine had shaken her head. "Good, then you will stay in your room at night."

The story had sufficiently scared her; she didn't want to be taken and killed, so she had stayed put every night. As she grew older, she came to know the story was nothing more than that; a story. Yet standing in front of her now was the masked man her adopted mother had told her about, taking her deep down into the opera house's bowels.

But she wasn't afraid. This was her angel, her teacher. He was the one who made her what she was. And she wanted to prove to him that his lessons had indeed paid off. So, she began to sing for him. Where the words and tune came from, she had no idea. But they all fit.

_In sleep he sang to me_

_In dreams he came_

_That voice which calls to me_

_And speaks my name_

_And do I dream again_

_for now I find_

_The Phantom of the Opera is here_

_Inside my mind_

The words and notes flowed together as her angel led her down a large, spiral stone staircase. The notes Christine sang echoed off the walls of the tunnel they were in. As she finished her verse, she realized she had no idea what she was going to sing next. Her angel saved her from an embarrassing silence.

_Sing once again with me_

_Our strange duet_

_My power over you_

_Grows stronger yet_

_And though you turn from me_

_to glance behind_

_The Phantom of the Opera is there_

_Inside your mind_

Christine smiled; this was the voice that had been in her dreams, there was no doubting it now. He was her teacher. It had been this voice, this beautiful baritone, that had turned her from a young girl who could barely sustain a pitch into a grown woman who could replace a lead Soprano. Christine closed her eyes and let the sound of his voice wash over her.

He had led her down the large staircase; they were standing at the bank of a large, black lake. A small boat was sitting on the surface of the water, waiting for them. Her angel took her hand and helped her sit down carefully. When she was seated, he climbed onto the back and stood behind her, pushing the boat along with a long pole.

As suddenly as the first time, Christine found she had another set of lyrics set to the same tune. Wanting to keep showing her angel what she could do, she began to sing the next verse. He sang along with her, his voice blending beautifully with hers.

_In all your fantasies_

_You always knew_

_That man and mystery_

_Were both in you_

_And in this labyrinth_

_Where night is blind_

_The Phantom of the Opera is there/here_

_Inside your/my mind_

By the time they had finished the final verse, they had reached a large gate that separated the tunnel from what looked like a well-lived in cave. The gate seemed to sense their arrival and began to rise slowly, yet quickly enough for the two of them to pass under without her angel having to duck. She looked around her and was shocked to see lit candelabras rising from the water. Christine had no idea how that worked, but she didn't want to question it. It was too beautiful to be questioned.

The lair they had entered was quite large; it looked like there were separate rooms branching off of this main one. Her angel drew the boat up to the bank and stepped off. When he was on shore, he pulled the boat up to the bank and held a hand out to Christine. She took it and allowed herself to be helped off the boat.

"Angel, what is this place?" she whispered looking around her.

There were statues all over the room, all had a black scarf covering one of their eyes, but they didn't have the scarf all on the same side. Paintings covered almost every wall, and what wasn't covered in paintings was covered in sheet music. Most interesting were the mirrors. Hundreds of mirrors filled the room from wall to wall, reflecting off of each other into infinity. She thought it looked amazing; beautiful, even.

"This is my writing room," he told her.

"You live here? But why would you live in such a dark place?"

"It's not all bad," her angel brought her up a flight of small stairs that led to a large writing desk.

Christine's eyes widened. Sitting on the back of the desk was a scale-model of the theater, and standing on the stage with the white dress and sun-burst barrettes in her hair, was a little Christine. "What is this?"

"This helps me plan," her angel responded. "It is how I make sure everything goes as I want it to."

"As _you_ want it to?"

"Those two fools who run my theater, oh what are their names…?"

"Monsieurs André and Firim, angel," Christine offered.

"Yes, them; they seem to think that they are in control over what happens in this theater. But, as I said, they are fools. They know nothing of my theater or the proper way it should be run. If I had had my way, I would have had you singing on that stage a long time ago," her angel said, turning to look at the doll of Christine.

"Wait…the incident with Carlotta…and the set background…" Christine looked at her hands. "You did that? You dropped the set cloth on her?"

"Yes," her angel said without looking at her. When she didn't respond, he turned to face her. "I didn't kill the woman, did I?"

"No, but… It just seems…"

"It was time, Christine," he took her hands in a similar fashion that Raoul had earlier that night. Unlike Raoul, his hands were gentle and warm. He didn't squeeze her hands to tight, nearly breaking her fingers. She wanted him to never let go.

"You must understand, Carlotta was profaning my stage with her…singing." He sneered the word "singing" as if he thought what Carlotta was doing was nothing of the sort. "I needed you to replace her. You are my muse, Christine. You are the only one with the voice capable of singing my music; the music of the night."

The name of his music sent chills up Christine's spine, but not in an uncomfortable way. "That sounds…wonderful," she said, watching him in awe.

He smiled and studied her face. "If only all thought the same… Madame Giry gave your name for an audition because I asked her to. I told her Carlotta was going to be leaving soon, and the only way for you to even be considered to sing her part, you would need to be put forward by someone that was well trusted by the people at the theater. And so she did it for me.

"I watched you during your audition, and it went even better than I could have hoped. Even those foolish managers could see that it was you that would need to sing the aria tonight. If anyone else did it, the gala would fail, and Opera Populaire would have been ruined."

"You planned all of this?"

"All for you, my muse," he said with adoration.

Christine reluctantly pulled her hands from his. It took all of her strength to do it. "But why did you do it? And why me? As the Viscount de Changy was so…eager to point out, I couldn't sing at all when I was younger."

Her angel's face darkened when she mentioned Raoul. "That foul man has no right to say anything of that sort to you. Your voice only needed a strong instructor to grow. He has no knowledge on how the human voice can grow. The way he spoke to you tonight…"

Christine was shocked at how quickly her angel's attitude had changed. The moment she mentioned the Viscount, his gentleness melted into rage. "Forgive me, angel, I didn't mean to make you angry," she whispered.

He turned to her, his green gaze softening. "No, forgive me, Christine," he took her hands again, which Christine was grateful for. "I shouldn't have let my temper get the best of me. Just thinking of how he spoke to you…tried to take you tonight…" he squeezed her hands, but it didn't hurt. It was a reassuring, protective squeeze.

"I would go nowhere with him," Christine told him honestly, lost in his eyes again.

"But you almost did."

"I wasn't thinking…my soul was weak… I gave into him…" Christine's voice softened further. "He scared me… The way he looked at me… I couldn't tell if he was watching me with compassion or lust…"

Her angel did something she wasn't expecting. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. The sense of closeness and warmth she gained from the simple hug was amazing. She fell against him and all of her fears melted away. She wanted to stay that way forever, but he let go. Too soon, in Christine's mind.

He backed away from her, as if appalled by the fact that he had touched her in such a way. "Forgive, my lady," he said, turning from her. "I shouldn't have done that."

"No," Christine closed the distance between them. "I don't mind at all, angel…"

"Erik," he whispered.

"What?"

"My name…it's Erik," he clarified.

"Erik," Christine tried the name. "That's a wonderful name. It's much better than me having to keep calling you angel all the time. I suspect you must get tired of having me call you that…"

He smiled and turned back to face her. "I haven't heard my real name used in so long… I've always been..." He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but decided against it. "I'm glad you're the one who will use it."

Erik took her hand. "I want to show you one more thing." He led her away from the writing desk and down another small flight of stairs and across to a cabinet. The cabinet stood next to a doorway. Christine noticed that this lair had no doors; only cloths covering the doorways or openings that needed to be hidden from prying eyes. She thought Erik was going to show her the room next door, but instead, he stopped beside the cabinet.

"What's this?" she asked, looking at Erik.

Saying nothing, he reached over and pulled back the cloth that served as the cabinet's door. Her eyes widened in shock at what she saw. A life-size model of her, hair and everything, was standing in the cabinet wearing a wedding gown. Christine felt her knees buckle and she fell back against Erik. The last thing she remembered before sinking into darkness was the feeling of him holding her close to his chest as he carried her from the room.


	4. The Mask

**Author's Note:** This chapter was extremely difficult. I knew I had to write this part in, and Erik needed to react as naturally as possible, but I didn't want it to be as big as a reaction as it was in the film. Hopefully I was able to get it across with this! Enjoy.

**4. The Mask**

The next morning, Christine awoke in a strange place. For a moment, she didn't remember where she was. She looked around her and found herself lying in a soft featherbed with a black and red silk blanket covering her. The room was small, but not cluttered. A small desk sat off to one corner with a chair sitting by it and a bedside table was sitting next to her. A strange stuffed monkey sat on the top of a music box on the bedside table. The monkey was wearing red Persian robes and was holding a pair of cymbals. Christine slowly sat up as the memories from the previous night returned to her.

Replacing La Carlotta as the lead Soprano had only been the first of many strange turns her night had taken. Raoul had returned to her that night. It was the first time in years she had seen him, and he had changed. He was harsher, crueler, and had eyed her with what she could only assume was malicious intent. She had agreed to go out with him to dinner and would have followed through with it if not for Erik. Her angel, her teacher, her voice coach, had come to her room and taken her…taken her where?

Christine climbed out of the bed and went to the curtain that covered the doorway. She pushed it back and entered the main room of the lair. She looked around her, expecting everything to be gone. But it was all there; the lake, the boat, the candelabras, the mirrors, the paintings, the sheet music, the writing desk…and sitting at the writing desk was the man; her angel, Erik.

She smiled. "I thought it was only a dream."

Erik turned form his work and smiled back at her. "Not quite, my dear," he called to her. "Would it have been better if it had all been a dream?"

"No," Christine smiled. "If it hadn't been a dream, then I would have had to go to dinner with the Viscount."

Slowly, Christine crossed the room, heading towards Erik. She flinched when she saw the statue of her in the wedding dress out of the corner of her eye. Thankfully, Erik had returned to his work and hadn't seen her flinch. "What are you working on?" she asked.

"Letters," Erik responded without looking up. "One for André, one for Firmin, one for Carlotta, and one for the Viscount," he listed.

"What will they say?"

"They are being informed of a few changes that will be made at the opera house." Still, Erik refused to look up.

"Erik," Christine began.

He seemed to jump when he heard his name called. "What is it, Christine?" he asked, regaining some of his composer. He still didn't turn around.

"Are you…mad at me for something?"

Erik turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed with confusion. "Why do you ask?"

"You just seem…distant this morning." Christine came to stand behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. He seemed slightly uncomfortable and tense under her touch. Instantly, she thought about the night before, the hug he believed he should never have given her. Perhaps that was why he seemed like he was unable to look at her. He was ashamed of his actions. She looked down at the letters he was preparing.

"It was a rough night last night. It appears you were more missed than I originally managed."

"No one came down here, did they?"

"Of course not," Erik scoffed. "It's impossible for anyone to find this lair without my guidance. They'd be lost in the bowels in only a few minutes if I wasn't leading them. Besides, if they had found us, do you think you would still be here?"

"I suppose not... I'm glad they didn't find us," Christine smiled. She wasn't sure why, but for some reason thinking of people finding Erik in his hiding place made her nervous. She had a feeling that the managers (and the police, for that matter) wouldn't take to kindly to learning that a masked man was living under their opera house. _No_, she corrected herself. _Not _their _opera house. This is _Erik's _opera house._

Christine studied Erik's face. The half that she could see, the half that wasn't covered by the mask, was handsome and unmarred. His face didn't even seem to be lined with wrinkles of any kind. Why did he wear that mask? Was it so Christine wouldn't recognize him? That seemed crazy. She didn't believe she knew anyone named Erik. She found herself gripped with a strange curiosity. Christine had to know what Erik was hiding under that mask.

Tentatively, Christine reached a hand around to the masked side of his face. Her heartrate increased as she gripped the edge of his mask. Erik didn't react. He didn't know what she intended; at least not yet. Christine hesitated. Did she really want to do this? Erik must have his reasons for wearing the mask. If she took it off, would he be angry? Perhaps she should just ask to see why he wore the mask…

The last thought came a moment to slow. She had already pulled the mask off. Erik's reaction was horrifying.

He pushed her to the ground, as hard as he could. As she fell, he turned his back on her. "CHRISTINE, NO!" he shouted angrily. He clasped a hand to the normally masked side of his face. Christine looked down at the mask in her cut and bleeding hands. What had she done? "What were you _thinking_? You pretty little moron! Why would you do such a thing?!"

Christine's eyes filled with tears. "Erik…" she whispered.

"What were you hoping to see, Christine?!" he screamed at her.

"I just…I wanted to know why…"

"Why I wore the mask?!" he said, turning back to her. His hand covered whatever it was he didn't want her to see. "Why would you want to know such a thing?!" he shouted. His voice was getting louder as he got angrier.

"I didn't know…maybe you were someone from my past…and I just wasn't remembering you…" Christine said, unable to look up at him. "I'm sorry, Erik. I didn't mean to make you angry…"

Erik came back towards her and slid to the ground next to her. Finally, his voice softened. "Christine, you do not understand what you've done," he whispered. "No one can _ever _look upon my face… Those that do…" he looked over at her with a mix of compassion and rage in his eyes. "They don't live for very long after."

Shaking with sobs, Christine held his mask back out to him. Sighing, Erik took the mask and turned his back to her. When the mask was put back in place, he turned back to her. He climbed to his feet and held his hand out to her. Fearfully, Christine took it. "Dry your eyes and clean off your hands, my dear. You need to return to the world above. Before they come looking for you."

Christine let him lead her back to her dressing room. When she was safely back in her room, he turned and left without a word. After he was gone, Christine turned and collapsed on her bed, sobbing uncontrollably.

She was angry, but not at Erik. She was angry with herself. How could she be so stupid?! Christine knew there was a reason Erik wore the mask, and that it was a good reason. She had betrayed his trust by trying to see what he was hiding under it. 'You pretty little moron,' he had called her. "I am, Erik. I am a pretty little moron."

There was a knock at the door. Madame Giry's voice called to her. "Christine, are you in there?"

Christine took a deep breath and called out, "Yes, Madame. I'm here."

The door opened and her adopted mother entered the room. She ran to her bedside and wrapped her arms around Christine. "I've been so worried about you, Christine! We all have! When you didn't come down to go to dinner with the Viscount, we began to search, but we couldn't find you!"

Did she tell Madame Giry about her night with Erik? Could she trust her with this secret? She had to tell someone, and who better than the woman who had treated better than a daughter. So, she told the story to Madame Giry. How Raoul had behaved when he visited her, how Erik had come to her room and how she had gone with him. She left out their duet and the wedding dress, but she did tell her about the incident with the mask.

Madame Giry listened compassionately, but gaze darkened as the story continued. "Why would you take off the mask?" she whispered.

"I didn't mean to! I didn't know! I know I shouldn't have, but…"

"My dear, there is a saying. It goes 'curiosity killed the cat'. Have you ever heard that saying?"

Christine nodded. "Once or twice," she sniffled. She looked up at Madame Giry with wide, terrified eyes. "You don't think Erik would…?"

"Not to you, my dear. At least, I pray not…" Madame Giry hugged Christine one more time and pulled her to her feet. "Come my dear. It appears that Carlotta has returned, and she's been asking after you."


	5. Carlotta's Return

**5. Carlotta's Return **

Madame Giry helped Christine clean up her face and hands, so any trace of her tears or the cuts she had gotten when Erik had pushed her no longer showed. When she was presentable, Christine let herself be led out of the dressing room, down the hall, and into the manager's office. Sitting behind Firmin's desk was none other than La Carlotta herself.

Her fiery red hair was pulled up in a bun so tight, it looked painful. She was dressed in fluffy, pink dress. Christine could only think of a pink poodle as she looked at the lead Soprano. Her angry, green eyes seemed to pierce into Christine, willing her to deliver up her secrets. Christine tried to mask her unease when she saw the letter, Erik's letter, sitting on the desk. Madame Giry unwillingly turned and left Christine and Carlotta alone.

"Good morning, Madame," Christine smiled brightly at Carlotta. The woman in the pink dress didn't return her smile.

"A few moments ago, I received a letter signed by the infamous Opera Ghost," Carlotta said, glaring across the desk at Christine. "Apparently, he seems to think that my time here is ending and that you will be my replacement. Do you know what I think?"

"I'm not sure, Madame,"

"I think there is no way a chorus girl could ever replace a leading Soprano." Carlotta climbed to her feet. "I don't care how good people think you are, you are nothing more than a chorus girl who received five minutes of fame. Nothing more will come from last night. Nothing more, do you understand?"

_That's not entirely true. _Christine thought, thinking of how Erik and Raoul had responded to her performance. _Something more will definitely come from last night. _Thinking that responding with this thought would get her in even more trouble, Christine meekly bowed her head and said instead, "I understand, Madame."

"I don't even know why they would have let you sing at the gala anyway," Carlotta sneered.

"The managers didn't want have to refund a full house, you see. And it didn't seem like you were coming back…"

"Did I not have good reason to leave?"

"That's not what I meant. It's just that, you left and they didn't want to lose money… It's all about profit, after all."

"You stupid little chorus girl, don't you think I know that?" Carlotta hissed. She crossed the room and grabbed the front of Christine's dress. She held Christine so close, she could smell the perfume Carlotta wore. It was an unpleasant mixture of cherries and apples. "I have been making this opera house a profit for five seasons! If it weren't for me, Opera Populaire would have sunk _years _ago!"

"I know, Carlotta, I've been here…"

"Carlotta?! _Carlotta?! _You forget your place, you stupid chorus girl! To you, I am Madame, not Carlotta. You are beneath me! You have no right to use my name without proper titles!"

For the second time that day, Christine found herself thrown to the floor. She did not let herself cry. out She would not give Carlotta that satisfaction. Steadily, Christine climbed to her feet. "Pardons, _Madame_," she said icily.

Carlotta charged at Christine, but before she could close the distance, the door was thrown open. "There was another letter!" André ran into the room, with Firmin, Raoul, and Madame Giry in tow. André was holding a slip of paper in his hand above his head.

When Raoul saw Christine, he came to her side and put his arms around her. "I was so worried about you, Little Lotte. I'm glad to see you're safe." After the night she had had with Erik, Raoul's words fell like acid on her ears, and his hug was painful and uncomfortably long. When he finally pulled away, he turned to Carlotta. "Why was I not immediately informed that she was returned safely?"

"We were discussing important matters dealing with…work." Carlotta glared over at Christine. Her gaze screamed that their conversation was _far _from over. She turned to André, all smiles and warmth. "What does the letter say?"

"The _Opera Ghost_," André spat the name, "has told us that in the upcoming production of _Il Muto_, we are to put Christine Daaé in the role of the Countess and you, my dear La Carlotta, are to play the pageboy." Carlotta's face darkened as she rounded on Christine. "He has warned us that if we do not do as we are instructed, something horrible will occur."

Carlotta seemed unable to respond for a moment. Her fiery gaze was resting on Christine, as if it was her fault that Carlotta's roles in the shows at Opera Populaire were being taken from her. "I will not play a _silent role_! I have been the leading Soprano at Opera Populaire for…"

"Five seasons," Raoul interrupted. "We are well aware."

She glared at Raoul for a moment before turning her eyes back on Christine and continuing. "Just because _Christine _replaces me in one gala doesn't mean she can have my place as leading Soprano!"

"Is this all just a matter of pride to you?" Christine responded angrily, unable to contain herself. "The only reason you're so angry is because a chorus girl has upstaged you in singing."

"How dare you, you filthy little…" Carlotta raised her arm, as if to strike Christine.

"Ladies," Firmin said, stepping between them. It was one of the few times Christine was glade for Firmin's interrupting nature. "Let's not fight amongst ourselves. It's bad enough we have this Opera Ghost trying to give us demands…"

"Perhaps we should follow these demands, monsieurs," Raoul offered. "At least this once."

"Of course _you_ would want her to play the lead," Carlotta said, placing her hands on her hips.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's obvious that the two of you are more than just friends. You obviously have feelings for each other…"

"No," Raoul said shortly.

"What of that stupid pet name, then, 'Little Lotte'?"

"It is a name from our childhood. It was what I called her then, and the name has stuck. We are nothing more than old friends. As if I would have feelings for her...a chorus girl…" he shook his head, laughing.

Christine bit her tongue, trying to keep from screaming at him. Would he still be laughing if she told them how he could barely keep his hands to himself the night before? The way he treated her, talked about her, was horrible. She longed to be back with Erik. At least before she had made him angry, he had treated her gently. The only person in the room who seemed to notice her frustration with Raoul was Madame Giry, who came over and took Christine's hand.

"I do believe the Viscount is correct," Madame Giry said. "We know nothing of this Opera Ghost other than the fact that he knows the opera house, probably better than any of us. We should not risk his wrath upon us."

"And what about my wrath, Madame Giry?" Carlotta asked angrily. "Does that mean nothing to you? If you keep me from this performance, or try to cast me as a pageboy, I promise to personally make your lives here a living…"

"ENOUGH!" André shouted. Taking a deep breath, he said, "It is obvious this Opera Ghost thinks he can control everything that happens at Opera Populaire. I say if we give into his demands, we only give him more firepower! If we start making our own decisions, making our own casting choices, he will learn that we do _not _take orders, nor do we give into terrorists."

"Therefore," Firmin continued, "we will cast Carlotta as the Countess, and Christine," he hissed her name as if it was a vile curse, "as the pageboy."

Carlotta smiled brightly, sensing her success was near. "This will teach him not to tell us what to do," she said confidently.

"You're wrong," Christine whispered.

Everyone turned to her. "And how would you know?" Raoul asked her. She looked in his eyes and saw the same look in it he had had the night before. After spending the night with Erik and seeing the love and warmth in his eyes, she had realized that it wasn't warm compassion. It was cold, hard lust.

"I just do," Christine said, feeling fearful under Raoul's gaze. "I've seen men like this before. If you deny them what they ask of you, they will make you suffer."

"You're only saying that because you want the lead role," Carlotta grinned wickedly.

"No!" she responded. "Please, you must listen! You have no idea what Er…" Christine barely caught herself and quickly rectified. "…the Opera Ghost is capable of. He could very possible make our lives even harder than Madame Carlotta could."

Raoul shook his head. "You are only tired, Christine. You don't know what you say." She saw the way his eyes questioned her. Had he noticed her slip? _Does he know I almost said a name? _Christine worried.

Christine shook her head, removing the thought from her mind. She had more pressing matters to attend to. "Please, you must listen to me!"

"Madame Giry," Firmin called. "Please take Miss Daaé and have her dressed for tonight's rehearsal. I think you'll find the pageboy outfit already laid out for her."

"Yes, monsieur," Madame Giry responded, leading Christine out of the room by the hand.

When they were a safe distance from the manager's office, Christine asked, "Madame Giry, what will happen when _Il Muto _opens? They have no intention of obeying the Opera Ghost..."

"I do not know, my dear. But I know that whatever happens, it won't be good."


	6. Compassion

**6. Compassion**

Christine found herself counting down to the day when _Il Muto_ opened. They had only two weeks left of rehearsals when the managers had decided to ignore Erik's orders, and those two weeks passed by at a crawl. Part of what made the week go by so slowly was her fear of how Erik would react when he came to see the new production, and learned that she had been cast as the pageboy and not the Countess. Undoubtedly, he already knew but was waiting for the show. He wanted an audience to see what happened when his orders were ignored. The second reason the two weeks pass at a snail's pace was the fact that Erik had made no more contact with her.

She knew when she had taken Erik's mask off, she had made him angry. True, she hadn't actually seen anything. It had all gone by too quickly, and she had been so afraid. But she had crossed a line, broken his trust, by attempting to see. He must have wanted nothing to do with her, for even his voice had stopped coming to her at night.

Now, standing on stage with Carlotta beside her, rehearsing for _Il Muto_, she found her thoughts wandering. She found herself thinking of Erik, alone in his dark home. Christine thought of how safe she had felt with him. At the very least, she knew no harm would come to her down there. Up here, it was very uncertain. People who hated her were the people who surrounded her now; the managers, Carlotta, Piangi – Carlotta's husband – all would love nothing more than to see her suffer. And Raoul...what his intentions with her were, she hoped to never learn. How badly she wanted to be back with Erik in his lair…

"You stupid, poor excuse for a chorus girl, why are you not paying attention?!" Carlotta's screeching voice brought Christine back from the safety of Erik's lair to the stage, where prying eyes were always watching.

"Pardons," Christine responded, bowing her head in apology. "I was distracted. My mind has been wandering these past few days…"

"So it appears," Carlotta hissed. "You could never be a lead. A lead needs to be here and now, focusing on the present. Not on the past and not on what will come."

As much as Christine hated Carlotta, she knew that the _prima donna _had a point. She would never be able to hold her place at Opera Populaire, whether as a lead or a chorus girl, if she didn't focus. Shaking her head, she said, "I'm ready, Monsieur Reyer."

The orchestra conductor nodded to her and struck up the music. This time, Christine was ready. She performed every move exactly as it was meant to be performed, at the right time. Though she did it successfully, when rehearsal ended, she knew Carlotta was still mad at her for her mistake. "Her mess up made me look bad," she heard Carlotta whine.

"No, my love," Piangi responded kindly. "You could never look bad."

Before she had the chance to return to the dressing rooms to change, she found herself stuck in an unpleasant situation. Backstage, after the rest of the cast and crew members had left, she had been cornered by Raoul. "Christine, are you feeling alright?" he asked her, backing her against a wall.

"Yes, Raoul, I've just been…distracted, is all."

"Are you still worried about what the Opera Ghost will do at _Il Muto _on Saturday?" he wondered. Her back was pressed against the wall, and Raoul had placed his hands on either side of her against the wall, preventing her from ducking away.

"A little bit," she admitted, squirming uncomfortably. "We don't know what this man is capable of. I think you and the managers aren't worried enough."

"And I think you're _too _worried." Raoul kept moving closer and closer to her. He rested his head on her forehead. "Don't be afraid of the Opera Ghost, Little Lotte. If he tries to hurt you in any way, I'll kill him myself."

_Perhaps it is not the Opera Ghost I'm so afraid of. _Christine thought. "I hardly doubt that will be necessary, Raoul. Besides, if he did do anything to harm someone, would the police force not execute him?" The words tasted like bile in her mouth.

"I suppose," Raoul whispered in her ear. "But I would oversee it. Little Lotte, there is no man in Paris who can protect you better from him than I can."

_But who __can protect me from you? _She wondered. Raoul attempted to kiss her, but she turned her face away. "No, Raoul, they'll see us."

"So what if they see us? I don't care anymore. I love Christine, I truly do, and I don't care who knows."

"Raoul, I'm a chorus girl, and you are the Viscount, the patron of the Opera Populaire. If you were to be seen with someone as lowly as I…"

"Hush, Little Lotte," he moved his hands from the wall. One gripped her arm and the other cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were filled with the cold lust that so terrified her. His grip on her arm was starting to get painful.

"I must ask you to remove your hand from my arm, monsieur," Christine hissed, looking him in the eye. "You are hurting me."

"Oh, come now, Christine," Raoul smiled. "I have told you I love you. Return the phrase."

"Viscount, I don't know what you feel for me, but it is not love." She tried to wrench her arm from his grasp, but he only tightened his grip.

"How can you know what I feel? Christine, there's no way..."

"But there is," Christine whimpered, fighting back tears. "Your words say love, but your eyes say lust. There is a large difference between the two."

"You know nothing of how the heart works, Little Lotte." Holding her face firmly in place, Raoul placed his lips against hers. Her immediate reaction was bringing up her free arm and slapping him across the face. In surprise, Raoul moved away from her.

Tearing up, Christine shouted, "You may think that because you have money, and titles, and power you can have whatever you want! But you cannot have me! I don't care what you say you feel for me, it is not real! You will stay away from me, or I will call the guard!"

Raoul looked at her in surprise, his face beginning to redden from where Christine had struck him. "You will come to understand my true passion for you, Little Lotte. In due time.." He turned his back on her and walked away. He hadn't even been angry.

In disgust, Christine sank to the floor and put her head on her knees. Who _was _this man that wore Raoul's face? That used his name? The child she had grown up with had been so gentle and sweet. This man…this monster had kill her childhood sweetheart. Whoever Raoul had once been, he was gone now. Her Raoul would never try to force himself on her.

As her shock faded, her fear of Raoul began to arise. He wanted her, badly, and would do whatever it took to get her. Tears began to well up in her eyes.

She didn't know how long she sat their, shaking, before she felt the presence. Someone was standing over her, looking down at her. At first, she stiffened, thinking it was Raoul. No, that was foolish. If this was Raoul, he would have made himself known to her. Perhaps it was Madame Giry or Meg; one of them had coming looking for her when she hadn't returned to the dormitory.

Whoever it was came and sat down beside her. She felt the person wrap their arm around her and pull her close, resting their head on top of hers. Then, they spoke. "Oh, Christine; if only I had gotten here sooner."

"Erik…" his name came out barely a whisper.

"I am here," he said simply.

Feeling his body pressing against hers, Christine couldn't hold back the tears. All of her fears of what Erik would do when _Il Muto _opened, her shock, rage, and fear over how Raoul had treated her, her anger with the managers and Carlotta…it all came out in a storm of tears.

And her own loneliness. She had been so alone since she had stayed with Erik that first night. She found herself apologizing for what she had done. "Erik, I'm sorry for what I did! I knew I shouldn't have taken the mask off… I betrayed your trust… Risked losing you… I've missed you, Erik! I've wanted to come to you, to see you again, but I was afraid you were still mad at me! Please forgive me!" she wailed.

"Hush, Christine; I am not mad at you. I haven't been mad with you for a while. I've wanted to come back to you, but I needed you to know that you must never try to do that again." Erik's soothing voice washed over her, quieting her sobs.

"I won't; never again. I swear it," she promised.

They sat in silence for a while longer. How long, Christine wasn't sure. All she knew was she never wanted this time together to end. But everything had to end.

"You will be missed soon," he whispered. "You need to return to Madame Giry."

"Erik, I'm afraid," she said, her body being wracked by shivers. "Raoul…he'll never forgive me for hitting him… Even if he didn't seem angry on the outside, I know he was furious and insulted... And he'll never leave me alone… He wants me for his own, and he'll do whatever it takes to get me... He scares me…"

"If you can take comfort in nothing else, take comfort in this; I am watching over you, always. I will never be far from you, Christine, and if he tries to touch you again, he will not be safe from my anger." Keeping his arm wrapped around her, Erik helped her climb to her feet. She fell against him, shaking from the force of her crying and the fear she had felt. "Can you walk on your own?"

"I…I think so…"

Erik turned her to look at him. He was wearing the same black clothes she had first seen him in, the black-and-white cape, the gloves, and the mask, the mask that had nearly ruined everything. And his eyes…those deep pools of green… Christine was instantly comforted the moment she looked in them.

"You're shaking terribly, Christine," he frowned worriedly down at her. Gently, he removed his hands from her shoulders and moved them to his own. He unhooked the cape from his shirt and wrapped it around her. "Perhaps this will help you…"

Christine hugged the cape to her like a lifeline. "Will anyone know it is yours?"

He smiled at her and took her face in his hands. "Of course not." He looked at her one last time (was that _longing _in his eyes?) before turning and walking back towards the stage.


	7. The Phantom's Revenge

**Author's Note: **This chapter and the next one were both written and rewritten over a course of two days. I wrote 7 and 8 Christmas day, then rewrote them the day after. So you know, Chapter 7 was, in my opinion, rushed and not how I wanted it to be. Hence the rewrite! I'm hoping this version will flow a bit better and lead into Chapter 8 more easily. Thanks for all your support and enjoy!

**7. The Phantom's Revenge**

After her run in with Raoul, Christine was always looking over her shoulder. She was horrified of the repercussions of her actions; she had slapped the Viscount de Chagny, Opera Populaire's patron. There would be a horrible price to pay, and pay she would. When, she would never know. But she would pay it. That was inevitable. The promise that Erik had made her rang in her ears. It was the only thing that kept her somewhat relaxed: _"If you can take comfort in nothing else, take comfort in this; I am watching over you, always. I will never be far from you, Christine, and if he tries to touch you again, he will not be safe from my anger."_ She shuddered at the thought of what Erik would do to Raoul if he ever tried to hurt her.

Her fear of Raoul soon melted away as the opening night of _Il Muto _finally arrived. Christine was in the dressing room with Madame Giry. She was getting her hair and makeup done for the show that would start in a matter of hours.

"The Opera Ghost will be there tonight, won't he?" Christine asked.

"Yes, he will be." Madame Giry nodded.

Christine smiled at the thought. The prospect that had once filled her with fear now filled her with joy. She might get to see Erik again tonight. No matter what the circumstances, she just wanted to see him again. Since he had comforted her in her distress and disgust the night Raoul had kissed her, he had returned to her at night, singing songs to her. But she never got to see him, which made her sad. Any chance she could snag to see him would make her happy.

The smile was not missed by Madame Giry. "Once, the thought of seeing the Opera Ghost tonight gave you such a horrible fright, you had nightmares. Now it makes you smile. Is this about what happened on Tuesday?"

Christine flinched. She hated that Madame Giry had found out about the encounter she and Raoul had had. The Viscount had gripped her arm so tightly, he had left marks, and Madame Giry had found them as she helped Christine change from her costume. She had still been shaken up and had whispered Raoul's name. Ever since, Madame Giry had been trying to get the rest of the story out of her, but Christine hadn't been forthcoming.

"I told you, Madame Giry, nothing really bad happened." she lied.

"Did the Opera Ghost attack you, and Raoul protected you?" Madame Giry asked. It seemed strange, but to Christine, it sounded as if she didn't really believe her own words. Christine looked at Madame Giry's reflection in the mirror, and before she could respond, Madame Giry said, "Or perhaps it was the other way around."

Christine turned around to look at the woman's face. "What makes you say that?"

"My dear, I know everything that goes on in this opera house almost as well as the Opera Ghost. I've watched you since you told me about your venture down to his lair the night of the gala, and you seem to have grown fond of him. And he seems protective of you."

"How do you know all this? How do you know how he feels about me?"

"Because I know him," Madame Giry frowned at the ground sadly.

"You…you know him?"

"His name is Erik, but then, I suppose you know that. I found him, a prisoner at a traveling fair, being abused by a horrible man as an…" she stopped and took a deep breath, "…an attraction for money. The man was making good coin off of beating Erik… I was so young then, so naïve… I was leaving the tent when I turned to look one last time… Erik... he had killed the man who had been hitting him... Strangled him with the rope that was meant to hold Erik captive... I should have been afraid of Erik, but I was only afraid _for _him. I couldn't leave him there; he would be arrested, killed for what he did. So I helped him escape and brought him to the opera house."

"Why are you telling me this?" Christine whispered, watching her adopted mother with fear in her eyes.

"So you know what he is."

"Not what, Madame Giry, who; Erik may have had a rough past, but he's a good man now. He wouldn't hurt me."

"But he'd hurt others. Christine, he will punish Firmin and André for disobeying him. Since he has been here longer than most others, he believes he owns this opera house, that he runs it. He believes _he is _the manager, and Firmin and André are puppets for him to conduct. If his orders aren't followed…it's possible he could kill again."

"I'm not afraid of him, Madame Giry," Christine turned back to the mirror. "We should hurry; the show will be starting soon."

Madame Giry seemed to have given up on trying to get Christine to realize that Erik could be dangerous after she shared his story, and spent the rest of their time together in the dressing room in silence.

Later that night, as Christine worked her way to the stage, she saw Raoul coming towards her. He come to a stop in front of her and smiled at her. His mouth smiled, but once again, his eyes showed his true feelings; cold, angry, and ruthless.

"I trust you will do well tonight, Little Lotte, even though your part is small and has no lines." He took a strand of her hair and twirled it around his finger.

"Viscount, I must ask you to stop calling me that," Christine said, shaking. "The only person who could use that name was someone who no longer exists."

"Oh, but I'm still here, Little Lotte," Raoul said with a grin.

"No," Christine shook her head. "You may have his name and wear his face, but the Raoul I knew is gone. He would never say and do the things that you do. Now, Viscount, you'd better hurry to your box. The show is about to begin."

Raoul's smile became fixed, but he dropped the strand of her hair back in place and turned, striding away. Christine let out a deep breath and headed towards the back left side of the stage. Here, she could watch the performance without being seen until it was time for her to perform.

When the show began, things ran smoothly. Despite Carlotta seeming to make everyone's ears bleed, the show was going perfectly. It seemed that everything would go well, that Erik wouldn't make good on his threat, when, after Christine had been on stage for only a few moments, the show came to a screeching halt.

From the balcony above the theater in the dome of the building, behind the chandelier that was the Opera Populaire's second most crown jewel (second only to La Carlotta herself, of course), the Opera Ghost's voice echoed through the whole hall. "I left you simple instructions! Was it so difficult for you to follow them?!"

The audience turned to look behind them, trying to locate the owner of the voice. But by the time they had all turned, Erik had disappeared.

"The Opera Ghost…he's here…" a cast member hissed.

"The Phantom of the Opera," Meg said, eyes wide. Christine recognized the other name Meg used; the name her mother had used when she told two little ballerinas in-training to keep them in bed at night.

"Please don't do anything brash," Christine whispered.

Carlotta rounded on her. "You are not meant to speak, you stupid chorus girl," she hissed. Carlotta seemed to float over to the side of the stage where she had her seamstress spray her throat so it would be moist. Christine took great care not to glare after her. Carlotta had soon returned to the stage, and began to start the number again. This was when everything went wrong.

_Serafimo, away with this pretense!_

_You cannot a-speak, but kiss me in my husband's ab-HOOO!_

Carlotta's voice croaked like a frog's. Everyone turned to look at her in shock. Even Christine couldn't keep her face clean of emotion. Eyes wide with terror, Carlotta began to sing again.

_Poor old fool he makes me laugh_

_Ha ha ha HOOO HOOO HOOO!_

Her voice failed her for a second time. "MOTHER!" she screamed. "MOTHER, MY VOICE! WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MY VOICE?!"

_She's lost it! _Christine thought. _She's lost her voice! _

The audience laughed as the curtain was whipped shut. They seemed to think Carlotta's lost voice was part of the show. _Have none of them seen _Il Muto_? _Christine wondered. The managers ran to the stage and stood in front of the curtain.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please forgive us for this…small delay!" Firmin's voice carried to the back of the hall. "Please, remain where you are; the show will begin again in a few more minutes. When _Il Muto _resumes, the role of the Countess will be played by…" André came backstage and grabbed Christine's wrist, yanking her out on stage. Firmin didn't miss a beat and said, "Miss Daaé!"

The audience showed their support by applauding loudly. Christine fearfully turned her gaze to Raoul in Box Five who was watching her with a cold smile of triumph on his face. What did he have to be triumphant for? It was thanks to Erik that Christine would have the role. Raoul had done nothing.

André continued speaking to the audience. "For now, I would ask Monsieur Reyer, our orchestra's conductor, to begin showing the ballet from act three of tonight's performance. We are sorry for any inconvenience this may cause you tonight. Please enjoy the rest of the show."

Calmly, the managers exited the stage and Monsieur Reyer began having the men in the orchestra flip to the right sheet music. Meanwhile, Madame Giry took Christine back into Carlotta's dressing room and started helping her change.

"Madame, I don't think we have any more to fear from Erik," Christine said. "He's gotten what he wanted; I will play the Countess. This has to be what he was planning on doing."

"I pray your right, child." Madame Giry handed her her dress. "For now, get dressed. We must have you back on stage in a few minutes."

Christine had only managed to change into a simple white dress that she would wear under the Countess' heavy gown when a stagehand charged into the room, breathless. Madame Giry shouted, "Monsieur, you must never barge in on a women's dressing room! She may be changing!"

The stagehand was unfazed by Madame Giry's scolding. "Madame Giry, Mademoiselle Daaé, I must ask you to stay here," he panted.

"What's happened?" Christine asked.

"Joseph Buquet…" he said, fighting tears. "He's just been murdered."


	8. The Rooftop

**8. The Rooftop**

Christine gripped the back of a chair, her knees weak, as Madame Giry thanked the stagehand for informing them and pushing him out of the room. With the stagehand gone, she quickly turned to Christine and watched her with sad eyes. "I tried to warn you, my dear. He can be dangerous when he is angry."

"No," Christine shook her head, sinking to her knees. "He wouldn't…"

"Christine, he is unstable. He's a killed a man in his past, and no he's killed a man tonight. All for vengeance over a stupid casting choice," Madame Giry told her, running to the back of the dressing room to grab something.

"He wouldn't kill Buquet because Carlotta was cast as the Countess…that doesn't make any sense… If he killed Buquet, he knew the show would be stopped… I wouldn't be able to perform…"

"This goes beyond you," Madame Giry responded, returning with Erik's black and white cape draped over her arm. Christine had been using Erik's cape as a blanket so she would have a stronger feeling of closeness to him. "Buquet's murder has nothing to do with you not being cast; this is all about power. Erik is demonstrating to the managers that he is the one who controls the opera house." Christine shook her head again as Madame Giry pulled her to her feet. Attaching the cape to Christine's shoulders, she continued, "You need to get out of here, go to the rooftop. Stay there until I come get you."

"What will you do?"

"Go, Christine; do as I tell you." Madame Giry hustled her out the door of the dressing room.

In a daze, Christine followed a familiar path up to the roof. Though rooftop access was strictly forbidden, Christine was unable to count the number of times she and Meg had gone up there to watch the sun rise or have their own private snowball fights. She climbed the spiral staircase that led to the rooftop access door. When she reached it, she threw it open and raced onto the roof.

A light snow had begun to fall. She hadn't realized how late in the season it was getting… Winter was in full blossom now, and January was right around the corner. The new year would be here soon. She went to the edge of the roof where a large Pegasus statue stood vigil, facing out towards the street. She rested her hand on its cold, stony flank and looked at the city sprawling beneath her.

People, small as ants from her vantage point, were spilling out of the door of the opera house. They must have fled the auditorium when they had learned the Buquet had been killed. As she thought of what had happened to the head stagehand, tears came to her eyes. It wasn't that she cared about Buquet, the man was nothing to her other than an overgrown rat. It was her fear that Erik had actually killed him over something as stupid as power struggle that scared her most. "Erik, what have you done? Please tell me Madame Giry is wrong… Please tell me you didn't kill that man…" she whispered.

The flood of people continued to stream out of the doors. Christine hadn't realized how many people the auditorium could hold. How many of those people would ever come back? Had they been scared away from Opera Populaire because of what had happened to Buquet? Would they still care that he had died if they knew what he was like?

"Christine," the voice called from the doorway. "I'm glad to see you're alright!" Christine turned to see Raoul coming towards her, his face flashing relief, but his eyes filled with a cold fire. It astounded her that one person could have such conflicting emotions inside him at the same time. "Are you cold? You're underdressed for being out in a snowstorm."

"This is hardly a snowstorm, Viscount," Christine said, swallowing. "This is a light snowfall; something I am quite used to. It is good to see that you are safe. When I heard about Monsieur Buquet, I just had to get outside, away from the madness…"

Raoul scoffed, "He is hardly a Monsieur, Christine. I know what that monster was truly like, always trying to get an innocent girl to his room for a night." He shook his head in disgust. Christine had to admit that Raoul was right; how many times had a poor ballerina disappeared with Buquet for a night, only to return in the morning unable to walk, let alone dance? "I'm just glad he never got his claws into you." Raoul began to take his coat off. "Here, Christine, it's important for you to stay warm. You don't want to get sick."

He held his suit jacket out to her. She waved it away. "Thank you Monsieur Viscount, but that is unnecessary. I am warm enough with just this." Christine clutched Erik's cape, tightening it around her. "How were you able to find me?"

"I saw you go up the staircase, and I followed you; I was worried that you had been hurt;" he said. He closed the distance between them and put his jacket around her shoulders, despite what she had said. "I am wondering, Christine…who is this 'Erik' you were talking about?"

"Viscount?" she asked, stepping away from him. She looked behind her to see the edge of the roof coming up quickly. "I'm afraid I don't understand…"

"When I came out here, I heard you say something about a man named Erik. I'm assuming, based on what I overheard, that Erik is the Opera Ghost?"

"What makes you think that, Viscount?" she smiled nonchalantly, quietly berating herself for being stupid enough to say anything about Erik out loud. She should know better than anyone - you never knew who was listening.

"Please stop playing games, Christine. Just tell me what I'm asking you. Is Erik the Opera Ghost?"

Christine found it difficult to control her breathing. She couldn't let Raoul know what she knew about Erik. But did he already know? The Viscount had suspected that she knew more about Erik since she had almost slipped and said his name in the managers' office. "Viscount, believe me, if I knew _anything _about him, I would tell you."

"Why do I think you're not telling me the truth?" Raoul stepped closer to her. Christine tried to take a step back, but she found herself backed against the edge of the stone wall that circled the roof. "There's nowhere you can go now, is there, Christine? Just tell me what I need to know."

"You don't _need _to know anything about him," Christine responded. "You just want to know about him for your wounded pride."

"My wounded pride?" he scoffed.

"Yes," Christine nodded. "I turned you away when you tried to court me, and now, you want to catch a 'criminal' so you can feel better about yourself."

Raoul's face darkened. He grabbed her shoulders and said, "The only reason I want to catch the Opera Ghost now is so I can turn in a murderer. He has _killed _a man, Christine! If you are hiding him, you are hiding a murderer!"

"How do you know he killed Buquet?! You don't have any proof!"

Raoul shook his head, squeezing her shoulders tightly. "I have all the proof I need, Christine, if you'll just tell me everything I need to know."

"Let go of me, Raoul!" she pulled out of his grasp. "You have no right to lay your hands on me in such a way."

Raoul reached for her again. "Christine, please! Just answer my questions! I know you know; where is the Opera Ghost hiding?!"

"Behind you," Erik's voice whispered.

He grabbed Raoul and pulled him away from Christine, pushing him to the ground. Erik stood between them. Angrily, Raoul clawed his way to his feet and glared at Erik. "Finally drawn you out of hiding, have I? Took you long enough to show your face, you coward." Erik didn't respond, only stepped closer to Christine. "Why'd you kill him, Ghost? Why did you kill Joseph Buquet?"

Erik still refused to respond to Raoul. He only stepped closer to Christine and reached behind him, gripping her hand reassuringly.

"Come on, Phantom!" Raoul called. "That's the other name they call you, right? The Phantom of the Opera... I think that fits you better... And I can understand why they'd call you that; all you do is hide in the shadows and sneak around, killing innocents."

"Joseph Buquet was far from innocent," Erik growled. He let go of Christine's hand and stepped towards Raoul. "He was a danger to the women of the opera house. I have done the them, and the world, a favor."

"You admit it! You admit you have killed a man!" Raoul smiled triumphantly. "I told you, Christine, this man is a murderer! You can't seriously stand by him now! Come, Christine, we will fetch the police!"

Christine shook her head. "No, Raoul, I won't go with you."

Raoul tried to cross the rooftop and grab Christine again, but Erik stopped him. He grabbed Raoul's arm and whispered threateningly, "You will not touch her again, Monsieur."

"Or what?" he hissed back. "What will you do to me? Kill me? Fine; seal your fate in my blood. It doesn't matter. One way or another, you will face an execution."

Christine wanted to throw up. She imagined Erik hanging on the end of a rope, Raoul holding her back, screaming, keeping her from him, laughing maniacally at her pain. She felt her legs go weak and she collapsed to her knees. Christine hugged her sides and felt tears weave their way down her face.

Erik turned to look back at her,a worried expression on his face. That was when Raoul struck. He grabbed Erik's arm in both of his and threw him to the ground. Christine heard his breath go out of him in a rush. She watched in horror as Raoul reached for Erik's mask.

"NO!" she screamed, finding her feet. "You can't, Raoul! No one must look…!"

Raoul turned to her. The rage on his face was so plain, she froze in place. It was the first time his whole face had betrayed his true emotions. "No one must look? Well, when I have him hanged for murder and assaulting a Viscount, I'll make sure the mask is taken off so _everyone _can see."

Christine's eyes widened in fear as Raoul reached for Erik again. She didn't hesitate a moment longer; she ran around to the front of Raoul and threw herself in front of Erik. "Stop, Raoul! This is wrong, can't you see?"

"What am I doing wrong, Christine? I am preventing more death. This man is a murderer, why can't you see that?! He's dangerous!"

"You've posed more of a threat to me than he ever has!" she hissed in response.

Raoul seemed taken aback for a moment, but the shock soon faded. He threw his head back and laughed. "I don't believe this! The chorus girl has fallen for the Opera Ghost! Unbelievable! You're in love with a man who won't even let you see his full face!"

Christine clenched her teeth, unwilling to show Raoul that he was right. She had known since that night Erik had sat next to her and held her as she cried that she had feelings for him. They were strong feelings, and feelings that she didn't think she could fight, even if she wanted to.

"You're being ridiculous, Christine. Now move; I'm taking him to the marshal," Raoul reached towards her and gripped her arm.

"No, Raoul, please; I'm begging you!" she screamed as he yanked her aside.

"What?!" Raoul shouted, looking around. Christine stared in shock at the spot Erik has been lying in only a moment before; he was gone. Christine realized that by blocking him from Raoul's view, she had allowed him the moment he needed to disappear. "Where did he go?!" he turned to Christine and grabbed her arm again. "He just left you behind without a second thought! Look, Christine; that is how much he cares for you!"

Erik appeared in front of Raoul out of nowhere and stood between him and Christine, breaking his grip on her arm. He smacked Raoul across the face, sending him to the ground. Raoul was sprawled on the on the snow-covered rooftop, holding his face in shock. He stared up at Erik with fear in his eyes. "I warned you not to touch her again."

After he was sure Raoul wasn't going to get up, Erik wrapped his arm around Christine's shoulders and led her back into the opera house. She collapsed against him and let him lead her back to his lair.


	9. The Model Stage and the Dress

**9. The Model Stage and the Dress**

Christine slumped against Erik as they snuck through the opera house back to his lair. He didn't take her across the lake again, but instead led her through earthen tunnels that wove their way under Opera Populaire. Tears continued to stream down her face as she let him lead her through the tunnels. Eventually, they reached his lair where Erik laid her down on the bed she had used the first night she had stayed there. "Stay here, Christine," he told her before disappearing deeper into the lair.

Feeling helpless, Christine curled up under the silk blankets and felt herself shaking with sobs. She couldn't get the image of Erik hanging from the gallows from her head, and the longer the image remained, the clearer it got and the harder she cried. She wasn't aware that Erik was back until she felt his hand on her head. "Relax," he whispered. "You're safe now."

"It's not me I'm worried about," she sat up looked at Erik with a tear-streaked face. "Raoul…he…he wants to kill you… He wants to see you executed…"

"Before he can have me killed, he has to find him. I'd like to see him try," Erik responded calmly. He climbed into the bed next to her and held her close to him.

"Erik…did you really kill Joseph Buquet?" she asked, unable to meet his gaze.

He didn't respond at first, which was all the confirmation that Christine needed. She felt the tears coming again, but fought against them as Erik began to answer. "I had to, but not for the reasons you think. I know Madame Giry told you about how she found me, and what I did in order to get free. I know that she thinks I killed Buquet to make a statement over the power I have here… But that wasn't it at all."

"Then why?" she begged, pushing away from him. "Why did you kill him?"

"He saw me," Erik turned away from Christine's gaze. "He knew who I was the moment he saw me, and he was going to get the managers…the police… The only thing I could do to stop him from getting to the police was…" he didn't finish. "I wish I hadn't done it, Christine, but it needed to be done. If the police found me here… Do you really think they'd just let me live out my days under Opera Populaire with my history?"

Christine squeezed her eyes shut as the image of Erik on the gallows returned to her. "I keep seeing…seeing a horrible image… Erik, if they find you, they'll kill you. There won't be a trail, they'll just execute you. I can't stand that… If they took you from me…"

Erik pulled Christine to him, and she willingly rested her head against his chest. She listened to his heart beating beneath his shirt, and let the repetitive pounding soothe her. "Christine…" he whispered. "You can't stay here for much longer. Madame Giry will be looking for you; she'll be worried when she finds that you're not where she told you to wait for her."

"I don't want to leave," she said, burrowing her face in his chest. "I can't leave you."

"It won't be forever, Christine," Erik said, holding her tightly. "But you're not safe here…"

"Are you going to hurt me, Erik?" she asked, refusing to move from her position.

"No," Erik responded, petting her hair.

"Then I am safer here with you than I am up there with Carlotta or Pianga or…Raoul…" she whispered Raoul's name, afraid that if she said it any louder, he would find her.

"I need you to return to the opera house, if only for a while longer." Erik started to move away, but Christine gripped his shirt tightly, trying to keep him from leaving. "You need to go back to your normal routine and get ready for the next showing of _Il Muto_. Carlotta won't be singing again for a while."

"How can I go back to a normal routine while I know you're down here and Raoul wants you hunted down and killed?"

"You just have to try, Christine." Erik pushed her gently away and climbed to his feet.

"What will you do, then?" she whimpered, brushing the tears out of her eyes and crawling to a sitting position so she could look Erik in the face.

"I'm going to disappear for a while. No one will hear from me while I wait for things to die down… But I won't be gone forever," Erik followed up quickly, seeing the distress on Christine's face. "Only for a little while; it's the best way I can think to ensure that the Buquet incident calms down just a bit."

"Will you still come sing to me at night?"

"I'm afraid we'll have to put the singing lessons on hold while I'm gone, Christine," he said looking sadly down at her. "I think you can go a few weeks without lessons, though. I'm beginning to think there's not much more I can teach you, anyway…"

Christine looked down at the bed, brushing her hand against the blankets. "I don't want the lessons to stop."

"Believe me, Christine, I don't either. But right now, the only thing I can do to stay safe is to disappear for a little while…" Erik turned quickly, and Christine's eyes widened as she realized that someone had come down into the lair. Erik blocked her view, but she could hear him let out a sigh. "It's only you."

"Yes, only me," Madame Giry's voice said from behind Erik. "Is she here with you, Erik?"

"Of course," he said, stepping aside so Madame Giry could see Christine sitting on the bed. "I went to find her after what happened…"

Madame Giry glared at Erik. "And we _will_ discuss what happened, Monsieur. I will be very curious to see what you have to say." She turned to Christine and sat down next to her. "Are you alright my dear? When I didn't find you where I told you to go, I got worried."

"I couldn't stay there, Madame," Christine said, looking at her hands. "The Viscount was there…"

"He was threatening her," Erik said. Christine wished he would come sit next to her and hold her like he had before, but he seemed to want to keep his distance now that Madame Giry had arrived.

"Was he really? If so, he needs to be reported."

"He never said anything, but he was acting strange… He was hurting me again…" Christine looked at Madame Giry with pleading eyes.

"Until he actually says something to you, there's nothing that can be done." Madame Giry shook her head.

"We'll never get him then. Even if he says something, it's the Viscount's word against mine. Whose story do you think the managers will believe, mine or his?" Christine shook her head. Her eyes met Erik's and she felt a chill run through her as she remembered Raoul's words. She really did love this man, even though he might not know it yet.

"Madame Giry, could I speak to her alone one more time before you take her back up?" Erik asked, gesturing at Christine as he spoke. Madame Giry glared at him as if leaving Christine was the last thing she wanted to do, but she nodded, stood, and left the room.

Erik came and sat next to Christine, placing his hand on her shoulder. "I need to know, Christine; what Raoul said tonight on the roof, about you…" he had difficulty finishing, but Christine wanted him to say it himself before answering. "About you loving me… Was that true?" Christine realized that the reason Erik asked was because of the look she had shared with him moments before. He had seen something in her eyes, and wanted to know more.

Suddenly, she remembered something in Erik's lair. _Two things, actually, _she thought. Christine pulled her hand away and left the room. She sensed Erik following close behind, and she led him to the scale model of the stage he had on the back of his writing desk. Madame Giry stood nearby, watching closely. Christine flinched when she the stage was set for _Il Muto _and it was Christine in the Countess' dress and Carlotta in the pageboy's outfit. He even had a little Meg, standing nearby.

"I'd forgotten about this…" Christine whispered. She looked back at Erik with sadness in her eyes. "What is this, Erik? What is it really?" she asked, lifting the Carlotta figurine.

"I told you already, Christine…"

"I know what you told me, but I don't believe you. This isn't just your planning tool so things run 'as you want them'. It's something else."

She turned to face Erik and saw him having difficulty looking at her. Instead, he studied a nearby mirror. "It's my vision," he finally spoke. "It's everything I want for you, Christine, everything I hope you'll one day be."

Christine shook her head, putting the Carlotta figurine back. The second thing she had to see was what scared her most. Fearfully, she crossed the room to the cabinet where she knew it was hiding. She grabbed hold of the carpet and pulled it down from the cabinet, revealing the statue made in her likeness wearing the wedding dress. Christine heard Madame Giry gasp, but whether it was in shock or disgust, she wasn't sure.

"And what is this?" she whispered, barely holding back tears. Erik didn't answer. "This obsession you have with my future… with me... Erik, it can't continue. On first glance, it's generous and thoughtful and sweet, but as you think on it harder, it becomes creepy."

"I know," Erik whispered. "I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable..." he seemed at a loss for words for the first time since they had met.

"You wanted to know if what Raoul said about me loving you was true," Christine broke the silence. She felt tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. She turned to face him. "And my answer is yes. I do love you, Erik, more than I have ever loved anyone." Erik's face brightened hopefully at her words. "But, Erik, seeing this," she gestured to the stage and to the wedding dress, "it shows me that there's an obsessive side to you that just...scares me."

"Christine…" Erik reached a hand out to her.

She bit back tears as she responded, "Erik, I want nothing more than to go to you and have you hold me, but I can't. Only a few moments ago, I wanted nothing more than you to stand by me for the rest of all time. But this obsession you have, whether it's for my well-being or to satisfy your own need for glory and love" (she almost broke when she saw him flinch at her wording, but she kept going) "but I think you should do what you originally planned. Lie low for a few weeks…distance yourself from me…only for a while…"

He looked to the ground and closed his eyes. It killed her to see her indestructible angel look so defeated. "It will only be for a little while, Erik, I promise. But…get rid of the stage and the statue, save the dress, but stop trying to write my future for me… Let me live for myself for a little bit. Then we'll come back and see where we stand."

"I want you Christine," he said, looking up at her, his green eyes glowing with pain. "I want you."

She had no idea where her words had come from, but she realized that they were true. Beneath the love she felt for Erik, she also felt fear. Seeing the wedding dress and the stage again reminded her that Erik wasn't just the kind man he appeared to be on the surface. He was also the Opera Ghost, the Phantom of the Opera.

"I know, but I need to know which side of you is stronger," she whispered, coming to stand in front of him. She placed her hand on the unmasked part of his face. "Is it Erik, the man I've come to love," she moved her hand to rest it on the mask, "or the Phantom, the creature I've grown to fear?"

He closed his eyes again and Christine was horrified to see a tear trace its way down the side of his face. "No," her voice cracked as she brushed it away with her thumb. "Please don't, Erik; I couldn't stand it if you did." She moved away from him slowly. "It's not going to be this way forever."

Biting the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from crying even more, Christine turned her back on Erik and started towards Madame Giry. "Thank you for protecting me again tonight, Erik."

Madame Giry took Christine's hand in hers. Before they left the lair, she turned and called to Erik, "I need to know your intentions. What are you going to do now?"

Christine turned to see he had regained his composure. He was standing tall and proud once more. In a confident voice he responded, "I have an idea for an opera I'm going to start writing. And perhaps, I will let this one be performed."


	10. Bal Masqué

**10. Bal Masqué**

If Christine hadn't been so busy with all of the shows André and Firmin were putting on to make up for what became known as the "Buquet Incident", her time away from Erik would have killed her. Even though the productions of _Il Muto _kept her alive, it didn't keep her from slipping into a mild depression. She tried to be on time for rehearsals, but she found herself sleeping later. She tried to eat healthily, but all food seemed to have lost its appeal. She tried to stay social, but she had never enjoyed being in the spotlight in the first place.

The loneliness Christine had felt had grown stronger when she realized that Erik had stopped being the Opera Ghost. There were no more notes, no more orders, no more accidents. He had simple disappeared from every aspect of her life, and the aloneness Christine felt had begun to crush her.

While Meg had reached out to her more since Christine had started feeling crushed, she wasn't Erik. It was a bit easier being able to talk to her, but Christine couldn't tell Meg everything. How could explain to her that the wanted-for-murder Phantom of the Opera was the man she loved beyond words? She would never understand, especially after the Buquet Incident.

Meg and Madame Giry had most noticed the changes in Christine, and spent their free time trying to keep her from disappearing into a full-on depression. They took turns visiting her in her room, and today was Madame Giry's turn.

"Please, Christine, you must eat," she pleaded. "People will start noticing your weight loss if you don't eat something." Madame Giry held a plate of food out to her. "You know Erik wouldn't want you to starve yourself…"

Christine was lying in the soft featherbed that was set in the bedroom behind Carlotta's dressing room, the room where Erik had first come to her after the gala. Since Carlotta had lost her voice during _Il Muto _the night of the Buquet Incident, Christine had inherited not only her position as the Countess - and soon the _prima donna _as well, if certain stagehands and ballerinas were to be believed - but her dressing room and all the extensions of as well.

"What does it matter what he wants?" Christine asked, burying her face in her pillow.

"It was your idea for you two distance yourselves from each other, you know," she sighed. When Christine didn't respond, Madame Giry put the plate down on her bedside table. "I'm going to leave this here. Do try to eat, Christine. It's important for you to keep yourself healthy, especially with another production on the way... Oh, by the way; with the new year arriving, the managers have decided to throw a celebratory Bal Masqué. If you feel you can handle it, I can have a dress prepared for you so you have something new to wear to it." She turned and left Christine alone in her room.

With a sigh, Christine pulled herself to a sitting position and looked at the food sitting the on the bedside table. She pulled the plate to her and studied it. Madame Giry had had the cooks prepare a simple garden salad with a lightly buttered croissant. It was a small meal, and despite the lack of appeal the food held, Christine had to admit that she was hungry. Her growling stomach silenced whatever doubts were left in her mind. She slowly ate the food that had been brought for her, swallowing it without tasting it. When it was gone, she placed the plate back on the bedside table. The servants would clear it away later.

Madame Giry had tried many different things to get Christine out of her room for things other than rehearsals, and normally, the thought of a party wouldn't interest her, especially not a ball. But as Christine reflected on what Madame Giry had said, she realized that the reason she was still considering going was because of the type of ball that was being held: a Bal _Masqué_. It was to be a masquerade; the perfect chance for a certain masked man to slip between crowds undetected.

Although it _had _been Christine's idea for Erik and her to stay away from each other, it was killing her to go so long without seeing him, without hearing him, without sensing him close to her. Now, with the idiots that called themselves Opera Populaire's managers throwing a masquerade, she had the perfect chance to see him again.

There was no way Erik wouldn't hear about the ball, and there was no way he would miss it; a chance to be out among people without hiding? How could he pass up this golden opportunity? It also gave him a chance to see how poorly the managers had done running his theater without him. The thought that he might possibly show up made her happy beyond measure.

Smiling for the first time in weeks, Christine studied her reflection in the mirror, making sure she didn't look too bad before racing out of her bedroom. She glanced sadly over her shoulder once more at the mirror Erik had used to enter her dressing room. She smiled once again, thinking of how soon she might get to see him. Taking a deep breath, she returned her attention to the door and exited the room.

She raced down the hallway, scaring the servants cleaning the many rooms of the opera house. Seeing Christine out of her dressing room with no rehearsals scheduled was a rare occurrence these days, and they followed her progress down the halls with wide, shocked eyes. Without slowing down, she ran to the ballerina dormitories and into Madame Giry's office.

Without betraying any emotion, Madame Giry looked up. "Good afternoon, Christine. What brings you all the way down here?" She seemed to have forgotten what she had mentioned to Christine only a few minutes before.

"I thought about what you said," she responded breathlessly. "I…I want to go to the masquerade."

"Why the sudden change of mind?" Madame Giry asked, looking back down at her work.

"It's just…you're right, Madame Giry; I've been ridiculous. It was my idea for Erik and I to distance ourselves, and I've been acting foolishly since then. I think it's time for me to start acting like myself again. He'd never want me to be doing the things that I am."

Madame Giry let a small smile cross her lips. "What color fabric were you thinking?"

A handful of nights later, Christine found herself going to Opera Populaire's Bal Masqué in a group with the managers, Madame Giry, Meg, Carlotta, and Piangi. She wasn't exactly happy with her group, but she _was_ happy to be out of her room for something other than an _Il Muto _rehearsal. And the dress she had was stunning.

She had let Madame Giry handle the whole thing, at the ballerina instructor's insistence. All Christine told her was that she wanted it to be pink, and Madame Giry had delivered. The dress was made of pink silk; the top of her dress was sequenced with silver gems – real diamonds, Madame Giry told her, though she wasn't sure if she believed that (mostly due to the fact that Madame Giry couldn't afford real diamonds) – and the skirt of the dress – which was so long, it dragged behind her when she walked, even though she wore heels – was full and wrapped with a thin, clear sheet of a sparkling material. The mask was made of pink feathers – real flamingo feathers, her adopted mother had informed her, but again, Christine wasn't sure if she believed that (again, because Madame Giry couldn't have the funds for _real _flamingo feathers) – and was made so it fit her face perfectly. It was also sequenced with the same gems that covered the top of her dress.

As far as Christine was concerned, she was the most beautifully dressed girl at the ball. Her thought was only supported when, before long, she had a line of men wanting to dance with her. Grateful for the distraction from her grief, Christine accepted every offer, and was soon laughing breathlessly. She let herself be swept up in the music and the dances, and soon forgot her worries.

Everything changed in a matter of seconds.

She had stopped dancing for only a moment, and was at the punch bowl with Meg. They were joking and laughing and having a good time when someone tapped her shoulder. Christine turned, ready to accept another dance, when her blood ran cold. Even with the mask, Raoul's face was easily identifiable. He wore a blue uniform that looked as if it was something a prince or naval officer returning home from the war front would wear. It was laced with gold trim and had a short cape that wrapped around the shoulders. The cape looked as if it restricted arm movement. His shoulder-length, sandy-brown hair was tied back with a blue ribbon. He wore a simple blue mask that covered only his eyes that glowed with blue fire.

"Mademoiselle, you look stunning," he told her, bowing gracefully. "No woman here is dressed half as fine as you."

"Thank you, Viscount," Christine responded, trying to look brave. She was grateful that the mask Madame Giry had made for her was attached to a string that held it to her head and covered the whole top half of her face, so he wouldn't see the fear on it. "You are to kind."

"Perhaps, Mademoiselle, I could steal you for a dance? It would be an honor to dance with such a beautiful young woman."

With Meg looking on, Christine knew there was no way she could turn down Raoul's offer without looking disrespectful, though she was terribly afraid of what would happen when he got her alone. He had been slapped twice on her account; once by her, the other by Erik, both times to keep him from trying to take her for his own. He would be furious, and being alone with him scared Christine witless. Smiling sheepishly, she linked arms with him and let him led her out onto the floor.

Raoul gripped her waist tightly and pushed her against him. She closed her eyes and stifled a whimper; she couldn't show him how afraid she was of him. That would only give him more power over her. They swept through the room, arm-in-arm, spinning in tight circles. Raoul placed his chin on her shoulder and whispered in her ear, "I was so hoping we could continue our conversation from the other night. After all, we were so rudely interrupted."

"Viscount, I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Christine responded quietly.

"Oh, come now, Christine. After he took you with him that night, you had to realize that _I_ would know that _you_ know where he's hiding." Raoul held her tighter; she had to fight a squeal of pain. "Tell me what I want to know. If it's Erik you're so afraid of, don't worry. Once I have him, I'll take you away from here and keep you safe. You don't have to be afraid of him."

_Oh, please no. He can't know Erik's name… _Christine thought. "I'm not afraid of the Opera…"

"Use his name, Christine," Raoul said. "I know that it's Erik. There's no point in playing that game any longer."

Christine bit back tears of fear for Erik's safety. If Raoul knew the real name of the Opera Ghost, how long would it be before he discovered that there was one other person at the Opera Populaire who knew of Erik's hiding spot? "I'm not afraid of Erik," she said simply.

"Then what _are_ you afraid of, Christine?" he murmured.

She swallowed before answering, "I'm afraid of you." Christine realized that the moment she said it, she would regret it.

Raoul pushed her away from him and grabbed her arm. He pulled her away from the ballroom and into the empty foyer. There, he pushed her against the wall and held her there. "Why are you afraid of me, Christine? What have I done?"

"You ask me that as you tear me away from the dance and press me against a wall, preventing me from leaving?! Why do you _think _I'm afraid of you Viscount?!" Christine hissed, trying to push him away. "You are a spoiled rich boy who thinks he can have anything he wants. I know you don't really love me; you look at me with lust, like I'm another prize you have yet to win. Well, I promise you this, _Monsieur_," she spit the title like it was venomous, "I am one _prize _you will _never _have!"

Raoul looked down at her with a shocked, confused look in his eyes. He couldn't make sense of what she was saying. "I…I don't understand…" He hadn't released the pressure that was holding her in place; in fact, the pressure was increasing.

"You don't understand that you're finally not getting something you want? I could never love someone like you, Viscount; someone who looks at me as an object rather than a human. It disgusts me."

"Christine…"

"Pardon, Monsieur," a new voice, a deep voice Christine couldn't place, called from behind them. "Do you mind if I steal the lady for a dance?"

"We are in the middle of something," Raoul hissed without turning. He stood in front of whoever the man was, so Christine couldn't see him. "Come back later."

"Are you married to her, Monsieur?" the man asked.

"What?" Raoul asked, keeping his angering gaze trained on Christine.

"I said are you married to her?"

"Well…no…"

"Engaged?" he questioned.

"No," Raoul scowled.

"Then you don't have much right to keep her for yourself, do you?"

Christine waited anxiously as she watched Raoul realize that he couldn't stay with her like this with someone watching. Rumors would begin to spread about them, and rumors that the Viscount and patron to Opera Populaire loved a chorus girl raised slightly above her station could not begin to spread; they would ruin him. Though they were true, he couldn't let that fact be known. At least, not yet. Not until he was _ready _for it to be known.

Angrily, Raoul whispered in her ear, "This isn't finished, _Little Lottie_." He hissed his old pet name for her as if it was a curse. Then, he turned away from her and stormed back onto the dance floor.

Christine looked down and started spreading the wrinkles out of her gown. Anything not to look at the strange man stranding before her. "Thank you, Monsieur," she said sincerely without looking up. "If you hadn't come when you did, I don't know what would have happened."

"I should kill him for that," the man's voice changed. It changed into one she knew. She didn't dare hope, though. She wouldn't be able to bare it if her ears were deceiving her. "After all, I warned him never to touch you again."

Without looking up, her eyes filled with tears as she whispered his name. "Erik."

He crossed quickly to her side, and wrapped his arms securely around her. "I am here," he said. It was the same thing he had told her the night , so long ago. It had been after Raoul had first showed his possessive, dangerous side and forced her to kiss him and when Erik had showed his compassionate, loving side when he had comforted her in her fear and disgust.

She let herself fall against him and pressed her face into his shoulder, comforted by his closeness. "I've missed you so much, Erik. I nearly died without you."

"Come, my dear," Erik said, leading her towards the ballroom. "I promised you a dance, and a dance you shall have."

He stood across from her on the dance floor, and she gasped as she looked at him clearly for the first time. Erik was dressed in an all-red suit; even the cape hanging from his shoulders was red. His mask covered the whole top of his face, like her's did, and the outline of a skull was impressed on it. He looked handsome as the red mixed well with his pale skin tone and jet black hair that was slicked back like always, but he also looked fearsome.

"_La Mort Rouge_…" she whispered. "Red Death…"

"You recognize it," Erik said. "I'm surprised."

"Why is that so shocking?" she asked, resting her head against his chest.

"It's just that…the story behind Red Death is so…gruesome, and you seem so…gentle."

"I do read, Erik," she laughed. She held onto the front of his shirt tightly, thinking that if she let him go now, he would fade from her as he had before. "What are you doing here?" Christine asked him.

"Can't I just be enjoying a party? I don't get to go to many of them, you know. Masquerades are my only chance to disappear in a crowd. The one time wearing a mask _won't _get me noticed," he told her.

"But there's more to it than that. I can tell."

Erik sighed, as if debating whether or not to tell her the truth. "I wasn't planning on seeing you one-on-one tonight, Christine," he admitted. "In fact, I would have kept you in the dark as to my presence here for as long as possible if that foul excuse for a Viscount hadn't tried to force himself on you again. I couldn't leave you to his mercy. And I'm not here to simply enjoy human contact… Although this kind of contact I don't mind." Erik held her tighter as they continued dancing. "I'm here tonight to present my opera to your managers. I decided that I do want this one performed by the cast at Opera Populaire, and I have a few…instructions on how the casting and rehearsals are to be handled."

Christine smiled; it was nice to hear Erik was going to return to his Opera Ghost duties. "Is that why you've been gone so long?" she asked. "Because you were writing you opera?"

"That was part of the reason, yes. I also wanted to…get rid of a few unwanted decorations," he said. Christine smiled, knowing which decorations he meant. It pleased her to know that he had gotten rid of them. The song ended, and Erik pulled out of her grip, bowing to her. "If you will pardon me, Mademoiselle, I have a show to begin."

"Erik, wait!" she tried to follow him, but even in his Red Death costume, it wasn't too long before she had lost him. Christine had a feeling that it wouldn't be long before she saw him again.


	11. The Phantom Returns

**Author's Note: **This chapter's a tiny bit shorter than the last ones, but after chapter 10 went on for more than 3,000 words, I thought splitting it in half would be best. It also came to my attention writing this chapter that I've been spelling "Messieurs" wrong. That won't be a continued problem any more. Well, thanks all for the continued support and enjoy the update!

**11. The Phantom's Return**

Even though Christine was expecting Erik's appearance in the ballroom, she never expected he would make such a spectacle of himself. Christine found that seeing Erik made her happier then she had been in a very long time. She had been very sure since Madame Giry told her about the masquerade that Erik would go, but actually seeing him was completely different than just thinking of seeing him. Now that they had spoken again, it was easy for her to get lost in the music, and the people in the ballroom were singing.

_Masquerade! _

_Grinning yellows, spinning reds!_

_Masquerade!_

_Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you…_

Christine's smile faded along with the voices of the crowd. They had reached the climax of their song was were ready for the grand finale when the lights of the room dimmed. She and the party-goers turned to see Erik, in all his Red Death glory, standing at the top of the stairs leading down into the ballroom. He didn't seem to see her as, lost in the moment, he climbed down the stairs and began to sing.

_Why so silent, good Messieurs?_

_Did you think that I had left you for good?_

_Have you missed me, good Messieurs?_

_I have written you an opera._

_Here I bring the finished score._

Don Juan Triumphant_!_

With a smile, Erik through down a black file filled with sheet music. Placing his hands on his hips, he stared down at the people watching him with wide, terrified eyes. No one dared move, their fear of the Phantom holding them in place. Christine could tell from the way Erik was carrying himself that he was enjoying the people's reaction to his sudden appearance.

He began to speak, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I trust you are having a good time?" Looking down at their shocked faces, Erik laughed. "Come now, you didn't think I would never return! I merely took a break, and wrote you a fabulous opera!" he smiled, pointing down at the sheet music on the floor.

"You've delivered your opera, Monsieur," Firmin called up to Erik. "Now...leave us in peace."

Christine watched nervously as Erik's smile faded. _Please don't do anything bad, Erik. There are a lot of them and only one of you..._

"I have just a few instructions for you, you see. Important little notes that _will _be followed this time, to the letter. I'd hate to have a repeat of the.." he smiled grimly, "Buquet Incident." The crowd screamed as Erik lifted a Punjab lasso above his head.

Fear gripped Christine's heart as she was reminded that Buquet had been murdered by Erik. She tried not to remember that fact, as it always filled her with cold dread. Erik let the screams die down before continuing his rant.

"First order of business…your precious La Carlotta _must _be taught to act. Everyone has gotten sick of watching her aimlessly strut around the stage like a mad, talentless woman." Erik laughed again as he looked at Carlotta's offended face. "And, our Don Juan must begin dieting so he can lose a bit of weight," he said, pointing over at Piangi. Carlotta's husband tried to charge Erik, causing Christine's heart skip a beat. Her fear was unfounded as Erik merely pushed Piangi back down the stairs. He didn't do it hard enough to hurt Piangi, to Christine's relief; only enough to keep him down. "Forgive me, Monsieur, I don't mean that wholly as an offense. It's just that, it's not healthy for someone of your age…but the fact is, Don Juan is meant to be handsome and desirable, not…" he gestured at Piangi "this.

"And, my dear managers must come to understand that they have _no _knowledge of the arts," Erik turned to Firmin and André and a smirk. "The only reason you are even 'running' this theater is because you happened to come into some money in the junk…oh, pardon me, scrap metal business. You do not deserve to run this theater. The only jobs suited for you are office jobs, where you sit behind a desk and file papers away. You are the worst judges of talent I have ever seen." The managers fumed at Erik's words, but didn't approach him. They were eyeing the Punjab at Erik's side nervously.

"And, as for our star..." he said, finally turning his attention to Christine. "We all know how amazing and talented she is; it is for this reason that she, and no one else, will be cast as Aminta. Would you not all agree that she is best suited out of the whole cast at Opera Populaire to portray the delicate love interest of Don Juan?" Erik had begun crossing the room to reach Christine, and she soon found him standing right in front of her. "If she will accept the role, then rehearsals must begin immediately."

Christine looked Erik in the eye, getting lost in the pools of green as she always did when she met his gaze. She knew what she wanted to say, but she couldn't betray how she truly felt about Erik. The people around her would know they could use her to eventually find him in the bowels of the opera house. So, she let fear cross her flood through her eyes. "How can I deny the man holding the weapon what he wants?" she said, her eyes flashing to the noose.

At first, she worried Erik would give them away. The sadness that passed through his eyes when he saw the fear in hers was unmistakable, at least to her. It quickly passed, though and he regained his confident composure. He smiled evilly at her, and she shivered in spite of herself. "Except for Christine as Aminta and Piangi as Don Juan, the rest of the casting I leave to the managers." he sneered. "I have no interest in the last of the casting... The show will open in a matter of months. I will watch your rehearsals eagerly."

Erik turned from her and quickly ran up the stairs, stopping in the middle of the landing. "Ladies and gentlemen," he called, "the Phantom of the Opera has returned!"

In a flash of red fire and smoke, Erik was gone.


	12. Aftermath

**12. Aftermath**

The next morning, Christine woke up in the bedroom she had inherited after La Carlotta's fall from grace that night of _Il Muto_. She didn't remember returning to her room the night before, nor did she remember leaving the ballroom. The last thing Christine did remember from last night was what happened during the dance when Raoul had approached her, Erik had saved her, and then presented his opera. What was it called again? _Don Juan Triumphant_; that was it he'd called it. And she had been cast as Aminta, the female lead, by Erik himself.

Slowly, Christine pushed herself into a sitting position. Immediately she regretted trying to move. A roaring pain raced through her skull. Wincing, she clasped her hands to her head, pressing on her temples, trying to get the headache to cease. She must have cried out, because moments later Madame Giry was pushing her back down.

"Rest, my dear," she whispered as Christine slid back down under Madame Giry's pressure. "It's alright, you're okay."

"Madame Giry," Christine whispered, "what happened? I can't remember anything after Erik disappeared…"

"You had a hard night last night," Madame Giry responded, brushing Christine's hair out of her face. "After Erik disappeared, you were swept up in the crowd that was fleeing for the door. I tried to follow you so I could take you to the dressing room… Erik wanted to speak to you again before the rehearsals started, and he enlisted me to get you here so you could talk without drawing excess attention. Before I could get to you, you were dragged outside in the panic. I tried to grab you, but someone had come up behind you and they pushed you down the stairs. You hit your head pretty badly… Erik and I were worried some of your memories would be lost, but you seem okay."

"Did you see who pushed me?"

"I think it was an accident, my dear. Erik frighting the people and they wanted to get as far from Opera Populaire as possible. In the everyone's haste to get out, it's highly probable that someone pushed past you and you fell. Erik seems to disagree; when I was finally able to get you back here, Erik was waiting. He was furious when he saw you had been injured, and he seemed to think someone had done it on purpose. In fact, he seems to believe the Viscount de Chagny is responsible."

Christine shook her head, wincing as the pain lanced through her head again. "No, the Viscount wouldn't…" she stopped as she remembered the previous night. Raoul had been very upset that she had still refused his horrible attempts at courtship and denied him the answers to his questions. But even if he was mad at her, would he seriously try to hurt her like this?

"I am convinced that it was an accident, my dear," Madame Giry said quickly, seeing Christine's hesitation. "These things _can _happen when mass panic breaks loose."

"You said Erik wanted to see me?" she asked, changing the subject. Anything to take her mind off Raoul.

Madame Giry nodded. "He stayed with you all night, refusing to leave your side. I had to force him to leave a few hours ago when the officers demanded to be let in..."

"Officers?" her eyes widened in fear. "What were they doing here?"

"After Erik's appearance last night, Messieurs André and Firmin had the police scouring the opera house from top to bottom trying to find him. As far as I know, they had no success in locating his lair. I did notice that the Viscount was helping them search."

"He'd do anything to find Erik's hiding place." Christine shook her head in disgust. While the action still caused her head to hurt, the majority of the pain seemed to have, thankfully, passed. "Are the police still here?"

"I'm afraid so, my dear," Madame Giry frowned, avoiding Christine's eyes. "Erik announced to everyone present that he would be sitting in on rehearsals for _Don Juan Triumphant_. If he makes good on that promise, which everyone knows he will, the police will remain here until they have him in chains."

The image she had had what felt like years ago returned to her; Erik on the gallows, Raoul smiling triumphantly as he held a screaming Christine from reaching Erik's side...

Christine forced herself into a sitting position. "I need to see him, Madame Giry," she whispered. _I need to know he's still safe..._

"He can't come up here. If you want to see him, you'll have to go down to him." Madame Giry climbed to her feet. "I'll take you down to him so you won't risk falling and getting hurt even more."

Madame Giry checked to make sure the dressing room door was locked; they didn't need someone barging in on them while the were using the mirror to get to Erik's lair. After, she helped Christine to her feet and led her to the mirror. She slid it open, revealing the passageway behind it. Together, the two traveled through the tunnels that wound deep down beneath the opera house, leading to Erik's lair. It took all of Christine's restraint not to take off running; she knew that if she ran she could slip and hit her head (again), but she really wanted to see Erik again, see that he was still safe from the police...and Raoul.

After what felt like forever, Christine and Madame Giry finally reached Erik's lair. At first, to Christine's horror, she couldn't find him. He wasn't sitting at this writing desk, or looking at any of the mirrors like she expected him to be. Madame Giry didn't seem panicked, so Christine attempted to stay calm. The pair walked further into the lair, and soon, to her relief, Christine heard the sound of a grand piano being played beautifully.

Christine followed the sound to a room she hadn't seen before. This one had the mirrors and sheet music scattered around as she had come to expect to see from Erik, but there was also a beautiful, ebony, grand piano placed in the center of the room. It was there that Erik was sitting. He was performing a new piece he had written, and was so lost in the music he hadn't heard them come in.

Madame Giry squeezed Christine's hand once before whispering, "I'll give you two some space." She turned and left the room.

Christine was alone with Erik for the first time in forever.

She slowly crossed, the room, not wanting to stop Erik from playing the beautiful song. But the need to hear his voice again overpowered her want to listen to him keep playing. She cleared her throat as loudly as possible to tell him that she was there. Erik jumped up from the piano and turned to her. She was shocked to see anger in his eyes, but it soon faded into a large smile.

He was back in his regular black jacket and pants with the white, half-mask covering the right side of his face. Erik closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the warmth and closeness of Erik's body. She was said a quick prayer of thanks that he was still here.

"I was so worried about you," he whispered. Christine was shocked to hear tears in his voice. "I'm glad you're alright."

"It was only a small head injury," Christine reassured him.

"But head injuries can lead to lost memories… If you had forgotten me…"

Christine laughed. "It would take more than one head injury to make me forget you."

Erik stood with his arms around her for a moment more before pulling away. "Did you come down here alone, Christine?"

"No, Madame Giry is with me. She told me about the police searching the opera house. Did they come close to finding you?"

"Of course they didn't," Erik responded with a smile, leading her from the piano room. "I swear, there are times when you don't give me enough credit. I've been hiding under this opera house for years; it will take a lot more than a few police officers searching for a handful of hours to find me... I want to show you something." He led her to his writing desk where the model stage had been. Christine smiled when she saw the stage was gone. "The statue is gone to. I have the dress hanging up in the cabinet still, but the manikin is gone."

"Thank you, Erik," Christine whispered. "I'm glad you could get rid of those things."

"I would do anything for you, Christine; all you have to do is ask me, and it will be done."

She rested the back of her head on his chest, letting him wrap his arms around her again. "Madame Giry said you wanted to talk to me. Is there something wrong?"

"No, I just wanted to warn you about the opera…"

"The one you wrote?" she said, turning so she could look up at him. "I'm excited to read it."

Erik started to blush, and Christine wondered what the matter was. "I just want to let you know that…this opera…it's not what your used to. Aminta…she's a young, foolish girl who doesn't fully understand what she's about to do, but she knows she wants to…and Don Juan…he's manipulative, trying to get Aminta to be with him for a night…and by _be _with him I mean…"

Christine's eyes widened as she realized what Erik meant. She turned from him, feeling her face flush. "Oh," she whispered. There was an awkward silence.

"I wanted you to know that if you feel uncomfortable playing Aminta, I'm sure Carlotta wouldn't mind…"

"No," Christine said, twisting out of Erik's grip so she could look him dead in the eye. "I don't want that…foul woman playing the female lead in the opera you wrote. She'd destroy it… But I have to admit… I don't quite know how I'd even being to…portray someone like Aminta; if I'm understanding her character properly based on what your telling me."

Erik took a deep breath before saying, "Read through the opera a few times, then decide. If you still want to play Aminta after you've gone through the script with Piangi, we'll talk about lessons to help you learn how to portray her."

_How much you must care for me, if you are more worried about how I feel about playing a character more than how I will play the character... No one has ever asked me whether they want me to play the character they've already cast me as... _Christine began to smile at the thought of having real, face-to-face lessons with Erik for the first time ever. She had been taking lessons from him, but she had never actually seen him during them.

"I don't think that's too bad of a plan," she said.

Madame Giry coughed, trying to get Christine's attention. She had almost forgotten that Madame Giry was there. In her happiness of being with Erik again, she had let everything and everyone else slip from her mind. "We need to return," Madame Giry told her. "If we don't hurry, you'll be late for rehearsal…again…"

Slowly, Christine started moving away from Erik. "I'll be watching," he told her with a smile.

"Be careful, Erik," she said, fighting tears. _I don't want to leave you again... They could find you while I'm gone... _She immediately berated herself for thinking that. _"I swear, there are times when you don't give me enough credit" _he had said. Apparently, that was more true than Christine dared to admit.

"I am _always_ careful."

She turned and began walking towards Madame Giry when an idea came to her. Quickly, she turned around and raced back towards Erik. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Without hesitating, Erik put his arms around her waist and kissed her back. It was so different from the time Raoul had tried to kiss her; that had been hard, cold, almost painful. This was gentle, warm, and passionate.

Reluctantly, Christine pulled out of the kiss. Erik rested his forehead against hers as they caught their breath. "I love you, Erik," she whispered.

"I love you too, Christine," he responded.

Christine bit her lower lip as she moved away from him, more unwilling to leave now then she had been before. She turned and saw Madame Giry watching them with a mix of joy and worry. Christine went back to her side and together, they started heading through the tunnels.

The only words that were spoken were by Madame Giry when they were standing just outside of the dressing room. "My dear, I hope you know what you're getting yourself into."


	13. Lessons

**13. Lessons**

The rehearsals for _Don Juan Triumphant _were more stressful than Christine could ever have imagined. She would have been fine, if not for the type of the opera that _Don Juan _was and the fact that she was watched very closely by dozens of people she didn't know during the "awkward phases" of the rehearsals when the first read-throughs of the script had been done. Christine remembered one day very vividly, when she and Piangi were rehearsing the climax song of the opera - _The Point of No Return_, Erik had labeled it. The types things that the choreographers hired by Opera Populaire's managers wanted her to do for that song had had her blushing furiously and stumbling through the number, much to the amusement and delight of the police officers standing around the room. They were still waiting for Erik to slip and reveal himself so they could capture him. Having them there as a constant reminder to the danger Erik was in was also something that made it difficult for Christine to focus.

It also didn't help that the one-on-one rehearsals with Erik weren't as easy as Christine had hoped they would be. Erik had such high expectations for her, and the things _he _wanted her to do soon caused even more embarrassment for her than the original choreography. It was easier on her since during the lessons since she was with Erik, but dancing the same steps with Piangi made her feel filthy, especially since he was married to Carlotta.

During one of their next lesson, Erik and Christine had been working on the climax of _The Point of No Return_. The lines Erik had been focusing on where the ones where Aminta and Don Juan were singing together when they had finally entered his room. Before even looking at the choreography for the stanzas, she and Erik ran through the lyrics together.

_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold!_

_The bridge is crossed,_

_So stand and watch it burn!_

_We've passed the point of no return._

Singing those lyrics with Erik, in Christine's opinion, held so much more passion and power than when she sang them with Piangi. She knew it was because she and Erik loved each other while she and Piangi couldn't stand to even be in the same room with each other. Christine had begun thinking that it would be a miracle if she and Piagni could make Aminta and Don Juan's relationship on stage believable.

More than anything, Christine wished that it could be Erik on stage with her when she performed this number, but she knew it was nothing more than an empty and impossible hope.

"Now, Christine, I've taken a look at what the choreographers have done with this part of the song, and…"

"You hate it?" Christine interrupted.

"Precisely," Erik smiled. He knew that she had learned his opinion of the decisions being made; he hated everything the managers' choreographers had created, and took every chance he could to change the moves that would be done with the lyrics. Erik wrote his instructions down and had the letters sent to the managers, and, because the managers feared his wrath, they followed his orders and the steps were changed to what Erik wanted.

"To you, Christine, what does this point of the song mean?"

Christine felt her face begin to flush. "To me this means that Don Juan has gotten what he wants; Aminta has given herself over to him, completely and totally, with no doubts. Aminta, on the flip side, has gotten what she thinks she wants and is going to experience something…new." Erik nodded encouragingly. Christine took a deep breath before continuing. "It is the climax of the show, when the big question of whether or not Don Juan will actually triumph is answered." _Although if the audience hasn't gathered that from the title of the opera, they're more dimwitted that I originally imagined, _Christine added silently.

"Very nice," he nodded, walking in circles around her. "That is almost exactly what I was thinking when I wrote it… If this is meant to be the climax, the deciding moment of my opera, then the dance should reflect this, yes? Do you feel that what the choreographers have successfully does that?"

"Absolutely not," Christine responded, thinking of the foolish dance the manager's professional choreographers had come up with. _Spin, spin, waltz, hold hands. Spin, spin, waltz, hold hands. Three steps forward, two steps back. Move away, move together. _Christine nearly burst out laughing thinking about it.

Erik had her stand across from him. "With the set I've had them design, you will have gone up the spiral stairs to 'Piangi's room' on the platform above the stage. You will stand there, and Piangi here. As the verse opens, you will begin walking towards Piangi, and him you. He will have flipped the cape over the rail that is behind him. You will take your time here; you have until 'the bridge is crossed'." As Erik spoke, they began walking through the motions he was describing. "Keep your face hopeful but slightly confused, Christine. Aminta wants this, though she doesn't know why. Despite her attempts at fighting Don Juan, he is successfully seducing her. That must reflect in your face."

Christine stopped with a sigh. "I'm struggling with that, Erik. I can't capture what you need from me here."

He stopped and rubbed the back of his neck. She knew he was frustrated; he had told her that no matter what she was doing, her face lost the look it needed every day since the lessons had started. Christine wished more than anything that she could capture exactly what he was looking for, but, as Piangi had put it the other day, Christine was "too innocent for Aminta". She sank to the ground and buried her face in her hands. "Perhaps it's not too late to ask Carlotta…"

"No," Erik stopped her. He came and sat next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders. "You were _born _to play this role, Christine, even if you don't quite know it yet. I have an idea for something that can help you." He pulled her to her feet, and made her look at him. He placed her hands on his hips and he did the same to her. Stepping closer to her, he rested his forehead against hers. Instinctively, Christine had closed her eyes.

"Focus on what your face is doing right now, Christine," he whispered. "Focus on how your mouth curves, your eyes close gently – not squeezing shut –, your eyebrows bend down towards your eyes… Think on how that feels, _remember_ how that feels. The bridge is crossed," he whispered the line in her ear. He twirled her so they were facing the lake they were practicing in front of. He was standing behind her, and they were entwined in each other's arms. Christine rested her head against his shoulder, completely at ease, smiling. "A small smile, Christine, of pleasure, not ecstasy… Good… Remember how that feels… So stand and watch it burn."

"We're past the point of no return," she finished, letting him move her hands around her body.

"Now you have it, Christine; that's what Aminta is. And those are the steps I want you to do with Piangi." To Christine's dismay, he pulled away from her. "I'd like to see the Firmin and André's choreographers get _those _results without my help."

"I understand now, Erik," Christine turned to face him. "I think I know what you're looking for now."

"I had a feeling that would work." Erik started towards his writing desk where he sat down and studied the papers set before him. "I have to write down those instructions so the managers know what I want…"

"Why didn't we do that sooner?" Christine said, coming over to Erik and placing her hands on his shoulders, watching him write. A chill went through Christine as the familiarity of this position came to her. She had been standing like this when she had tried to remove his mask. Christine wondered if Erik remembered that as well. "If you knew it would work," she continued, trying to keep her voice from shaking with the sadness of the memory, "why did you wait so long?"

Erik didn't respond at first, as if he was mulling his options. "I'm not sure why I waited for so long, Christine. I wanted to see if you could get it without me having to be…overly romantic. It's a good stretch for you if you can get it own your own."

"What do you mean, without being overly romantic? Do you have a problem with…with us?"

Erik turned to face her, confusion in his eyes. "No, not at all… That…that came out wrong... Forgive me, Christine." As if to emphasize that her interpretation was wrong, Erik reached up and pulled her close so he could kiss her. He waited for her to pull away, and when she finally did, she had a small smile on her face.

"I'm sorry, Erik, it was ridiculous of me to think that. Stupid question…" She looked down at the letter he was writing and watched his quill flow over the parchment quickly. "Could we…run through the song again? Just to make sure I have it…"

He shook his head before putting his quill down and standing. "Let's go to the music room," he said.

Christine knew that Erik knew she didn't need any more practice. She just wanted to sing with him again, and he knew that yet never turned her down. Any chance he had to sing with her, he would snag. Together, the entered the room where Christine had found him the day after the masquerade. That had been almost a month ago. Since then, he and Christine had spent countless hours in this room, practicing his opera, talking, or just sitting together. Whenever Christine had free time, she found herself spending it with Erik.

They ran through the whole opera, from beginning to end, moving from song to song, twice before Christine decided it was time for her to return to the world above.

This part of the night was always difficult; she hated leaving Erik down here alone. She could only imagine how difficult it must be on him to be here by himself with no one but his music and mirrors for company.

For what felt like the millionth time, she allowed Erik to walk her back up to the dressing room mirror, arm-in-arm. When they reached the mirror, Christine slowly pulled out of Erik's grasp and turned to face him, her back to the mirror.

"Thank you for everything, Erik," she said with a smile. "It means so much of me to have my angel of music with me every day."

Erik bowed deeply, grinning at her. "I often find myself asking, Christine; am I _your _angel of music, or are you _my _angel of music?" He gave her a quick kiss before turning and climbing back down to his lair.

Shaking her head, Christine made sure no one was in the dressing room before pushing back the mirror and entering the room. The moment she had slid the mirror back into place, the door was thrown open. Christine jumped and turned to see Raoul entering the room, followed by Madame Giry.

While she was glad that Madame Giry had come with Raoul, it scared her that he had been allowed to come so far into Opera Populaire without there being a show. Normally, the only time anyone who wasn't the occupant of the dressing room or an official Opera Populaire worker wasn't allowed in the dressing room, and though Raoul was the patron, he didn't officially work for Firmin and André.

"You missed rehearsal, Little Lottie," he told her simply, standing over her with his arms folded.

"What?" she said, looking to Madame Giry for clarification.

"The managers called an emergency rehearsal for _Don Juan_," Madame Giry informed her. "I sent Meg to find you, but the Viscount offered to go fetch you instead. He came back to tell us you weren't here, and we spent the last two hours looking for you."

"So, where were you, Little Lottie?" Raoul asked, glaring at her. "Do you want to tell me?"

Christine hesitated, trying to think of something she could tell Raoul that would be believable. Finally, an excuse came to her. "I was at my father's grave, Viscount. I just returned, but I didn't want to disturb anyone, so I came back into the opera houses through the back door."

Raoul stared down at her, his eyes shining with cold fire, but he didn't challenge her. "You need to stay on the premise, Little Lottie. A murderer is wandering the opera house, and I would hate for him to catch you." He turned to leave, pushing past Madame Giry. Before exiting, he stopped and said, "Try not to miss anymore rehearsals, Little Lottie; the show is opening in two weeks."

When he was gone, Madame Giry glared at her. "What were you thinking, staying down there so long? If you had been even a millisecond longer, he would have caught you coming in through the mirror!"

"I'm sorry, Madame Giry; the time got away from us. We were practicing the dance, and then he was writing a letter, and then…we were singing, Madame Giry." Christine collapsed on the chair that stood before the vanity. "Our voices were meant to be entwined in duet. They blend so beautifully…"

"I know what you want to happen when the show opens, my dear, and it can _never _be." Madame Giry sat down next to Christine in a nearby chair. "Erik wouldn't dare show up at _Don Juan_; he especially wouldn't go on stage with you. If he did, Raoul would have him shot on sight."

Christine nodded. "I know, Madame Giry, but I don't think I can replicate the realism I have with Erik when we're rehearsing with Piangi… I can't stand that vile man. He's almost as bad as Raoul…"

Madame Giry sighed. "I know that you are unhappy with Erik's casting choice for Don Juan, but this is good practice for later in life. Our partners are often chosen for us, and who we may at first be unhappy with, we can come to love...or at least appreciate."

Her eyes widened as Christine realized what Madame Giry was talking about. It was rumored that Madame Giry's marriage had been arranged by her family, and at first she had hated her husband. The rumor said that it wasn't until Madame Giry became pregnant with Meg that she had learned to love her husband. Before now, Christine had never believed the rumor, but seeing how Madame Giry spoke now told Christine that the rumor rang with more truth than she had ever thought.

"You really do love him, don't you?" Madame Giry asked, gazing at Christine with gentle eyes.

"I do, Madame Giry; more than life itself. I can't imagine my world without him…" she looked back at the mirror. "Every day it gets harder for me to leave… I never want the lessons to end. I want him to sing to me every day and night for the rest of eternity…"

"Have you ever thought of what will happen in your future, my dear? What can Erik give you? He's wanted through all of Paris, he can't show his face in public for more than just that one reason… Christine, what kind of life can he offer you?"

Anger surged through Christine, and she climbed to her feet. "He can offer me love, which is more than I can say for most of the men in my life right now. Piangi wants to see me crawling in the dirt… The managers want to see me back as a little chorus girl who can't demand anything from them… My _suitors_ are just waiting for me to fail… And Raoul… he wants nothing more than to claim me as his prize! Erik is the only man in my life who loves me for me!"

"Does he love you for you; or for your voice?" Madame Giry whispered.

"I can't believe what I'm hearing. Not from you…From anyone else, but not from you." Christine grabbed the black and white cape Erik had given her all those months ago. She had tried to return it, but he told her it was a gift, and he wanted her to keep it. Fighting tears, she threw it around her shoulders before storming to the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To the cemetery; I really need to visit my father's grave right now," she hissed before exiting the dressing room, slamming the door behind her.


	14. Looking Back

**14. Looking Back**

Christine's head was still spinning from what Madame Giry had said as she climbed into the back of the carriage. The moment she was securely settled in, the coach driver had returned to the front and hurried the horses along; she had offered to pay double to get to the cemetery as fast as possible, and the coachman wasn't wanting to lose the extra francs.

Now, sitting in the back of the carriage, completely alone for the first time in nearly a month, Christine let the tears of frustration trace their way down her cheeks. _"Does he love you for you; or for your voice?" _Madame Giry had asked. Christine had been furious when she, of all people, had asked that. Madame Giry had seen Christine and Erik together on more than one occasion, and knew how strongly they loved each other. He question was unfounded.

Or was it?

She found herself thinking back to Erik's parting words. _"Am I _your_ angel of music, or are you _my_ angel of music?" _ Was it her voice that he loved so dearly? Did he treasure her singing capabilities more than her as a person? Christine wanted to tell herself no; Erik obviously loved her for who she was, not just for her voice. But she couldn't find the strength to say it. Perhaps Madame Giry's terrible question had some truth to it. There would be only one way for her to know for sure, and that was for Christine to ask Erik. But did she really want to know whether or not Madame Giry's horrible question was true? She knew she had to ask, and soon. Christine resolved to approach Erik after visiting her father's grave.

Using Gustave Daaé as a lie to cover up her absence at rehearsal had made her feel filthy and like an unloving daughter. Who used their deceased father as an excuse to escape other's judgment? True, she had done it for more than just herself, but Christine still felt the need to visit her father's grave and apologize for what she had done. She also wanted to talk to her father again, as she hadn't done it in a long time.

The carriage stopped in front of the gate that led to the cemetery and Christine made good on her promise; she gave the coachman double his usual fair and told him that if he waited here patiently for her to return and got her back to Opera Populaire in the same quick time, she would pay him double again. Eagerly, the man nodded and told her he'd be waiting right where they were standing for her to come back.

Thanking him, Christine turned and entered the graveyard, pulling Erik's cape tighter around her shoulders. The snow hadn't yet melted, though February was wrapping up quickly. If one were to look in on Paris at that moment, they would think it had just entered midwinter, not that winter was supposed to pass away in a matter of days. Snow blanketed the floor of the cemetery, covering the stone angels and headstones in a white, glittering powder.

Snow gave the graveyard to much of a cheery appearance in Christine's opinion. It wasn't meant to be beautiful and glowing here; a cemetery was to be dark and somber. The white blanket did not seem to fit with what a graveyard was meant to be.

Slowly, Christine wove her way through the graves, heading toward her father's mausoleum; it was a large structure made of gray wood and sealed with an iron gate. Angels made of the same stone stood guard outside, keeping watch over her father's final resting place. When she reached the steps of the building that led to the door, Christine sank to them, sitting before the bottom step. She looked up at her family's name carved above the gate, forever etched into the gray stone.

"Father," Christine whispered, biting back the tears of sadness she always felt when visiting Gustave's tomb, "please forgive me for using you as an excuse to satisfy Raoul's hunger to know where I'd been. I should not have done it, but I couldn't think of anything else that he would believe… I had to protect my angel…" She always felt strange, speaking to her father without hearing his kind voice in response. No matter how busy the Swedish violinist had been, he always made time to talk to his daughter.

Whenever she visited Gustave's tomb, Christine would always tell him a story, like she had whenever she visited him when he was alive. It was always a true story about something that had happened during her day, and she always looked forward to telling them. Despite the number of times she'd visited the grave and the number of stories she'd told, there was one she hadn't yet shared with him. It was the story of the night her life changed forever. The night Erik had first appeared to her.

She decided it was time tell him this story, and of everything that had happened sense. Perhaps hearing the full story out loud would help Christine sort through all of the jumbled emotions she had been feeling for several months: her stress with _Don Juan_, her anger with Opera Populaire's managers, Piangi and Carlotta, her fear of Raoul, and, since only a few moments before, her frustration with Madame Giry, and her worry that her love with Erik had nothing to do with her as a person and only with her voice.

"When you were dying," Christine began, "you promised that you would send me an angel of music to watch over me. For weeks after I arrived at Opera Populaire, I waited for the angel to arrive. After only a few months, I gave up on ever hearing from him. But then, one night before bed, as I was lighting your candle and saying a prayer, I began to cry harder than I'd ever cried before. Just when I began to feel like nothing in the world could stop my sobbing, his voice called to me…my angel had arrived. You really had sent him.

"Even though, that first night, I never saw his face, he calmed me. His presence was warm, and comforting, and his voice…he _sang _like an angel, father. And soon, he began to teach me how to sing to. I think you would be amazed if you could see your daughter now. That girl who once - how did you put it? - squealed like a pig whenever she tried to sing is now the lead Soprano, the _prima donna_, of the world-renowned Opera Populaire. How proud you would be of me…"

Christine remembered the night Erik had made himself known to her as if it had happened yesterday, not all those years ago. She recounted that night and the nights that followed to her father; how her angel had sung to her every night as she lay in bed, and whenever she went to light Gustave's candle and say her prayers. How, through listening to her angel sing, she had begun to learn. She told him of what had happened only a few months ago, when she had sung at the gala in Carlotta's place. She told him of her fame, and how Raoul had changed, how he had become cruel and coldhearted. And she told him about Erik; her angel, her tutor, her protector, and the love her life.

"You always told me I would find someone out there somewhere; someone who would love me beyond measure. And I think I've finally found him, father. Erik…he treats me like no one else. He looks at me as if nothing has changed; as if I'm still the same girl I was before I sang at that first gala. Everyone else treats me and looks at me as if I'm a goddess, or as if they're just waiting for me to fail. But Erik…he still treats me the same… He _must _love me, father, it's the only explanation!

"But…Madame Giry has me doubting him…his love… She thinks the only reason he still cares for me is because of how well I sing. She seems to believe that if I stop singing for him, or if I somehow lose my voice, I will lose his love… Father I don't want that to be true! I want Erik to love me for who I am, not because I have a talent he desires!" Christine stopped talking and looked down at the snow-covered ground. She gripped at the edges of Erik's cape, wishing that he was here with her to quell her fears.

She had to get back to the opera house. She had to talk to Erik, right now, before her fears began to grow stronger.

With a deep sigh, Christine pushed herself to her feet. She looked longingly at her father's tomb one more time. "I wish you were still here with me, father…" she whispered before turning and heading back towards the coachman.

He was waiting exactly where he said he would be, sitting up in his seat with his jacket wrapped tightly around him. When he saw her approach, he hopped down and pulled the door open. "Mademoiselle, I have no idea how you handle this cold with only a cape," he said; a poor attempt at small talk.

Christine didn't respond as she climbed back into the carriage. The driver closed the door behind her before going back to his seat and clicking the horse into motion. As she lay back against the seat, Christine found herself thinking of the last time she had lived in the Daaé mansion, when things had been so much simpler. Her father had been alive, Raoul had still been kind, and there was no Phantom of the Opera...

* * *

><p>"That's no fair, Raoul!" a seven-year-old Christine called, racing after her childhood friend. "You started before I said go!"<p>

The two children were chasing each other around Gustave Daaé's large backyard while their parents sat on the porch watching them carefully. The de Chagny's often visited the Daaé estate, especially in the summer and spring when the weather was nice and they could take advantage of the huge yard Gustave had around the back of his house.

Christine and Raoul played together well; better than a male and female child should in the eyes of the de Chagny parents. Gustave didn't mind his child playing with Raoul, and they could play whatever and however they wanted when he was watching over them. It wasn't uncommon for Christine to dirty her dress and end up covered in dirt and scratches after a visit from the de Chagny's.

This specific day was the last time the de Chagny's would visit the Daaé estate before Gustave's untimely passing. The knowledge of his death had been, at this time, unknown to his daughter and her playmate, though both Gustave and Raoul's parents knew that Monsieur Daaé had been sick for quite a while and his death was quickly approaching.

Troubles far from mind, Christine and Raoul were racing to see who could reach the large oak at the far end of the yard the fastest. Unfortunately, when racing, Raoul never played fair. He often shot off before Christine had finished counting down, and so he won every time. Christine was getting frustrated with Raoul, but she never let that show on her face. _"A lady never shows her anger or frustration, especially with a high-born boy." _Gustave had told her on many occasions (most of them after she and Raoul had finished playing).

Instead of yelling at him, Christine playfully joked, "It's not good for a future Viscount to get into the habit of cheating."

"Cheating?" Raoul had scoffed. "I have done no such thing!"

"Yes you did, and you're lying now, too!" Christine laughed breathlessly. She gently pushed Raoul's shoulder, and, for her benefit, he pretended to stumble. "See? That was a lie as well."

"But it was a lie to help you feel better. Didn't you feel strong when I stumbled?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "I knew you were faking!"

"Sometimes you're too smart for your own good, Christine," Raoul smiled. "Mother tells me that it's not good for a woman to show how smart she is. Most men frown upon women who can think."

"Oh please," Christine responded, sitting down on the grass. "The only reason men 'frown upon' women who can think for themselves is because they feel threatened! They worry that if women _really _start showing off how smart they are, their 'male dominance' will be put into question!"

"You're using really big words…" Raoul said, sitting down next to her.

"My father taught me to be proud of my vocabulary, and to use large words often! Mostly so I could confuse the men who weren't as smart as I am."

"They confuse m... Hey, wait a moment!"

"It's not my fault you don't know what long words mean!" Christine laughed, watching Raoul frown in frustration. "Now don't you feel threatened by me?"

"Threatened? By someone in a dress? No way!" Raoul scoffed, brushing off her comment.

The two friends laughed.

"Raoul?" Christine asked.

"Hmm?"

"I was just wondering…were going to be friends like this forever, right?"

"Of course," Raoul said, taking Christine's hand in his. "I can't imagine any reason we won't be. In fact, I intend to marry you when I'm older, and make you my Countess!"

"What?!" Christine scoffed, yanking her hand away. "Ewwww! _Me _marry _you_? How desperate do you think I am?!"

"Desperate?!" Raoul responded, his jaw dropping. "I'll show you, desperate!" He tackled her and the two children went rolling and laughing around the yard.

* * *

><p>Christine's eyes watered as she remembered that day. "Oh Raoul…" she whispered. "What ever happened to you?"<p> 


	15. Questions

**15. Questions**

Before returning to Opera Populaire, Christine had the good sense to run to a small shop across the street and pick something up. She knew the odds of her running into Raoul while returning to her dressing room were very high, and she couldn't tell him she'd been visiting her father's grave again, even though this time it was true. He would never believe her, and never let her go. She also knew that if she just _said_ she went shopping, he would want to see what she had bought. So, to cover her tracks, Christine picked up a couple books on music theory. She probably wouldn't ever read them; she just needed to make Raoul believe that she had indeed been shopping.

As soon as she had the books, she went back to Opera Populaire. Immediately after returning to the opera house, she realized that her decision to have an excuse for her second disappearance of the day was a good idea. Raoul found her almost immediately. "There you are Little Lottie," he called to her, coming down the steps to stand in front of her. He blocked her way back up the stairs to her dressing room.

"Good evening, Viscount," Christine said, smiling warmly up at him. "I trust you have had a good day?"

"Where were you this time?" he asked her, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You can't have been at your father's grave seeing as you were just there during rehearsal."

Relieved that she had already prepared her lie, it came easily. "No, Viscount," she responded nonchalantly. "I went to the bookstore; I'm looking into books having to do with music theory. I was just thinking that…it might help me with _Don Juan_." Would her father be proud at how easy lies rolled off her tongue now? Maybe, if he understood the uncomfortable positions her relationships with Erik and Raoul ended up putting her in.

Raoul watched her with icy eyes, looking her up and down. She could see that he didn't quite believe her, so Christine showed him the books. "This was all I could find that was useful," she told him.

He took the books and studied them. "I don't see what books will tell you about singing…" Raoul said with a shrug, pushing them back into her arms. "But I don't much care. Do _try _to stop wandering off without someone being with you, Christine. The Phantom is a killer. I'd hate to think what would happen if he got his hands on you." He smiled as if he had said something funny. Christine wasn't sure what he found so funny. Something was tingling at the back of her mind. Something Raoul knew that she wasn't remembering...

Christine shook her head, clearing it, as Raoul tried to push past her. Before he could get to far, she couldn't stop herself from asking, "What happened to you, Raoul?"

He rounded on her and glared at her. "What?" he hissed.

"What happened to you? When we were kids, at my father's house, we were so close. We could tell each other anything. We did whatever we wanted, said whatever we wanted, went wherever we wanted… What happened to that boy I spent nearly every day with?"

His gaze softened only slightly, but the cold fire Christine had come to dread remained. "I grew up, Christine. I took my place as the Viscount de Chagny and the patron of Opera Populaire. I learned where in the world I belonged." He turned to leave again, but Christine reached out and gripped his arm, refusing to let him get away so easily.

"The last time I saw you before my father died, you told me that we would always be friends!" she exclaimed. She felt tears fill her eyes, brimming over and running down her cheeks. "I wanted you to be there for me when my father died, and you weren't! I needed you Raoul, and you disappeared!"

For the first time since she had met up with him again after the gala, Raoul's eyes lost the cold, lust-filled fire and fully softened. His face gained the gentleness Christine had come to love when they had been kids together. "My parents…" he said, shaking his head, unable to meet her gaze. "They never approved of us playing together. The only reason they let me keep visiting was because they cared about your father. After he died, they saw no reason for us to keep seeing each other… And without you…" Raoul reached a hand out and gingerly stroked Christine's face. It was the gentlest he had been to her since he had come to her after the gala. "Without you, my world melted into rules, and statistics, and the best way to make money…"

"That same day you told me you and I would always be friends…" Christine ventured, feeling brave, "you told me you intended to marry me."

Instantly, Christine regretted saying that. Raoul pulled his hand away, and his face gained the hard expression it had held for so long, his eyes refilling with that horrible fire. "And I still intend to marry you. You'll see, Christine. Once this problem with the Phantom has passed, you and I will go away. We'll go far away and get married, and once were happy together, we will return and you can continue to sing."

Christine bowed her head in defeat. She had been so close to reaching him, but he had slipped away from her. Christine began to worry that she would never be able to reach the old Raoul again. "Excuse me, Viscount; I must return to my room," she whispered, fighting tears.

"Why, so you can slink away to wherever the Phantom Erik is hiding?" Raoul asked.

She froze, horrified at hearing Raoul say Erik's name. _That _was what she had been trying to hard to remember. Raoul had known since the Buquet Incident that the Phantom's name was Erik. Now, the horrible reminder also told Christine that, whether he meant it or not, Raoul suspected that she had been spending time with him. That scared her beyond words. Hoping that she hadn't hesitated for too long and made Raoul even _more _specific, she said, "I'm going to rest. It's been an emotional day."

"Yes, I'm sure," Raoul responded, moving away from the stairs. As Christine began to climb, Raoul called, "You will lead me to him one of these days, Christine. Whether you mean to or no, it will be _you_ who delivers Erik up to me."

Christine climbed the stairs at a normal pace until she was sure Raoul couldn't see her. Once she was sure she was out of his line of sight, she raced to her dressing room. When she reached the dressing room, she threw her books to the floor and locked the door. Panicking, Christine ran over to the vanity. Pushing the chair to the ground and brushing everything she could off of it, Christine pushed the vanity against the door.

Once she was satisfied no one would get in, she ran to the mirror and threw it open, only slowing to make sure that the mirror closed properly. After it was back in place, she turned and raced down the tunnel to Erik's lair. No man in the world could scare her more than Raoul did, and all he had to do was threaten Erik. Anytime Raoul started hinting that he knew where the man she loved was hiding, it sent her into a panic only seeing Erik could quell.

She didn't stop running until she reached the tunnels Erik called home and could hear the grand piano playing in the music room. Slowing her pace, she entered the room where he was practicing yet another new piece. Unlike the first time she had heard him play, Christine had no problems interrupting his rehearsal today. She crossed the room quickly and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck.

"You made so much racket coming down here, I thought they'd finally found me," Erik said. Though Christine could hear the smile in his voice, she whimpered at what he said. He seemed to realize that he'd upset her, and pulled her down next to him. "What's wrong?"

"It's Raoul…" she said.

Erik was no longer smiling as he said, "Tell me everything."

"I went to my father's grave and I spent some time there… On the way back, I was thinking of the last time I saw Raoul when we were children. He was so kind and gentle back then… And when I got back, I ran into him… For some reason, I started thinking I could reach him, get him back to the way he had been when we were younger… And for a moment, I had him back. He was my Raoul again, Erik, the one who loved and cared for me… But then… I reminded him of how he said that he intended to marry me when we were older. He said he still was going to marry me one day after you were caught… After I led him to you…" Christine told him.

"Christine," Erik whispered, holding her tighter. "I trust you. I trust you more than anyone else. If anyone can keep my location a secret, it's you. You would never do anything to intentionally lead Raoul or the police down here. I just hope you've learned from this that whoever Raoul was when you were younger, he's gone now. I hate seeing the pain and fear he causes you whenever your hopes arise..."

"But I was so close, Erik… His whole demeanor changed when I talked about that last day… He was gentle and kind, and the way he…he treated me, it was as if nothing had changed…"

"Whether you like it or not, Christine, everything has changed. You're no longer the little girl who lived on the Daaé estate, and he's no longer the young boy who played with you during the summer months. Both of you have taken very different paths, and neither of them are going to intertwine again." Erik took one of her hands in his. "I don't say this to hurt you, Christine. Hurting you is the last thing I want; but you need to understand that whatever you wanted to happen between you and Raoul…will never be, no matter how badly you want it…"

"I just want Raoul to be a friend to me again, Erik. I don't want him to love me. That's what I have you for," Christine whispered. That response reminded her of why she had originally wanted to come back down here. "Erik… I was talking with Madame Giry earlier." She laced her fingers with Erik's before continuing. "She seems to think that the only reason you love me is because…because I can sing…"

"Christine, if I loved you for your voice, I would have a million other people that I loved. The reason I love you is because you are the only person to look at me now and not see a monster. No one before has ever been able to look past the exterior to see what I am underneath. You are the first to try. I love you because you are a gentle and sweet spirit, and you have a caring and loving heart. There is no one else in Paris…no; there is no one else on this Earth that I could love more than you."

She found herself laughing despite the fear and sadness that had been welling up inside of her during the past few months. "I knew she was wrong, Erik. But I had to ask…"

"Never be afraid to ask me for things, Christine. I'd do most anything for you."

Christine knew she was pushing it, but she had to try. Reaching up, she placed her hand on the mask. "Let me see, Erik. I want to know why you wear it."

Erik stiffened beneath her. He was silent for a while before saying, "That is the one thing I cannot give you."

"Please," she begged, pushing herself away so she could look him in the eye. "I need to see why you hide… Why that man did those things to you when you were younger… Please."

He glanced down at her with a defeated expression. "Are you sure you want this, Christine?"

"Yes," she nodded.

Climbing to his feet, Erik turned his back to her. "I suppose I made you promise...Whatever you ask of me, I would grant it. If you really want this, then I will show you."

She watched, her heart in her throat, as Erik reached up and gripped the mask. _What am I doing?! _she screamed at herself. _Why am I asking him to do this?! No matter what I see, no matter what he looks like, I must _not _react! I'll lose him forever if I do! _ Slowly, Erik began to turn to her. Finally, he faced her. She felt her hand jump instinctively to her mouth. Her eyes glazed with pain and sadness. _I shouldn't have done this…_

The whole right side of Erik's face was terribly scarred. She couldn't tell from what; it could have been fire, or acid, or even something that had gone horrible wrong during his birthing. The flesh was pink, and parts of his face bulged outward while others were pressed tight against his skull. His bottom eyelid was drooping farther down than it should have, exposing most of the white of his eye.

He tried to cover the scarring with the mask again, but before he could put the mask in place, Christine was standing in front of him. She had to show him that she wasn't afraid or disgusted.

Carefully, she rested her hand against the scarred side of his face. She didn't pull back, nor did he recoil from her touch. The flesh beneath her hand felt leathery and bumpy, and though at first it startled her, she didn't let her face reflect any of her inner thoughts. Without closing her eyes, and keeping her hand rested on his cheek, she pressed her lips to his. Surprised, Erik at first didn't know how to react. Finally, he placed his arms around her and kissed her back. She didn't close her eyes once and she didn't move her hand away. Erik was the first to pull away.

"I don't see anything wrong here," she whispered.

"You are the bravest person I have ever met, Christine," he told her, keeping his forehead rested against her, gazing into her eyes. "And the kindest."

"People are terribly cruel, Erik. You do not deserve the things that have been done to you." Christine placed a hand on his chest. "I swear to you, I will never look down on you, never hate you, just because of your appearance. You are still the most handsome man I have ever had the pleasure of looking upon; with out without the mask."

"That, Christine Daaé, is the reason I love you." Erik put his mask back on. When he met Christine's gaze again, he watched her with a new light, new love, new respect. "You've been gone to long," he told her, taking both of her hands in his. "It's time for you to return."

"Do I have to go back?" she asked sadly, knowing the answer.

"Only for a little while longer, Christine. Soon you can stay with me for however long you want," Erik promised.

Christine smiled at the thought of never having to leave Erik's side again. "How long…?"

"_How long should we two wait before we're one?_" Erik sang the line from _Don Juan_. It was the line Christine had to sing while she and Piagni where climbing the stairs to his room. Hearing it come from Erik, she felt as if the way she did it was inferior.

She smiled up at him as he began leading her from his lair. "Exactly," Christine said.

"Get through _Don Juan_, Christine. After the show ends, we'll start planning our future."

Thrilled by that fact - and the closeness of the promised date - Christine returned to her dressing room much happier than when she'd left it. She moved the vanity back from the door and unlocked it. After, she picked up everything she had thrown to the floor in her haste to get to Erik without being spotted. Through the whole of her cleaning, Christine could sense a presence watching over her and she knew that Erik was standing just on the other side of her mirror, watching over her as he protectively. She knew that if she felt even slightly threatened, he would charge in and rescue her.

Knowing that her angel of music was keeping a loving and protective eye on her, Christine felt her heart sore with joy and her chest fill with a sense of security. As long as Erik was watching her, nothing would ever hurt her.


	16. Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note: **So, it has been brought to my attention that the chapters beyond 15 are having some problems actually posting. I will repost the next two chapters (16 & 17) and see if this fixes the problem. If not, I will see if I can troubleshoot and get this fixed. Thanks to everyone for your continued support and, hopefully, we'll have this all cleared up soon! (Disclaimer: I have no claim to Phantom of the Opera, 2004 edition or any other. All rights belong to the song, script, and book writer). ~Shella

**16. Best Laid Plans**

_Don Juan_'s opening night was approaching quickly, and Christine's hopes were soaring. Erik's words kept spinning around in her mind. _I can stay with him forever if I want to…I just have to get through_Don Juan_…_Christine thought, smiling at her reflection in the vanity. She was so close to being able to be with Erik, never having to lead his side again… All she had to do was finish showing _Don Juan._

As opening night approached, Christine found herself having less and less time to spend with Erik. André and Firmin kept her and Piangi on stage for untold hours. They wanted everything to go perfectly for Erik so as not to have a repeat of the Buquet Incident during _Il Muto_. Christine knew she should've enjoyed the rehearsals; she got to sing Erik's work and dance the steps he had created not just _for_ her, but _with_ her. She should feel close to Erik during the rehearsals, and happy. But Piangi made it impossible.

The steps that had flowed so perfectly with Erik were awkward and difficult to do with Piangi. Not only did she have to work around his terrible attitude towards her, but also his round stomach. He hadn't taken Erik's advice at the masquerade and tried dieting or exercising, so he retained his big shape. Doing some of the steps was difficult, doing others was impossible. And, of course, every mistake Piangi made was pushed on Christine's shoulders.

When Christine was blamed for Piangi's mistakes, she bowed her head and took the manager's anger without complaint. She angered slightly as she thought about what had happened today. When his mess-up caused both him and Christine to fall, he told the managers that she was the one who had been doing it wrong and she had exploded. Christine told (more like yelled at) the managers that it was Piangi who had caused them to fall; when they had been coming towards each other, he tripped, grabbing onto her to prevent himself from falling. Unfortunately, he vastly outweighed Christine and both of them went to the ground.

He had pointed at Christine and said that she had mis-stepped and that was what caused him to trip, and the managers looked ready to tear her apart for making such a stupid mistake with opening night looming before them. She didn't even let them start speaking. Immediately she said that it hadn't been her fault; Piangi had just stumbled and dragged her down with him as he fell. The managers didn't seem to believe her at first, but several of the dancers had seen it happen and confirmed her story; it had been Piangi's fault. They had let him off with a warning.

Christine had no idea why she hadn't meekly taken the mangers criticism during rehearsal today like she always had; perhaps it was because the opening night for _Don Juan_was tomorrow, and she was worried that they weren't ready. Maybe it was because she knew she and Erik would be together once the show was done. It might be because the police still hadn't left Opera Populaire, and were still scouring every inch of the place for Erik.

She didn't know what had caused her outburst, but it was the first time she had stood up to Piangi, and she had enjoyed the look of despair on his face when he had finally been punished for his mistakes.

Christine sighed, shrugging off the anger from earlier. She had other things to focus on. For the first time in nearly a week, Christine had time alone. She planned to go down to visit Erik; she intended to spend the whole rest of the day with him, after making sure that the managers weren't planning any surprise rehearsals. After double checking that the door to the dressing room was locked, Christine crossed to the mirror. Before she could open it, it was pushed back; Erik had saved her the trouble of going down to him.

"I was just coming to see you," she said, stepping back to let him come into her room. When he hesitated, she said, "The door is already locked, don't worry."

With her reassurance, Erik came into the dressing room. Christine slid the mirror back into place and turned to face him. It was strange to see him sitting at her vanity. He seemed so out of place in the world above. His face didn't betray any of his inner emotions.

His voice was cold as he whispered, "I should never have cast Piangi as Don Juan_._" Christine realized that Erik must have been sitting in on the rehearsals and seen Piangi blame her for his mistakes. "He doesn't deserve to even look at someone as beautiful and talented as you."

Christine smiled, blushing at his praise. "It's not all that bad… And its only for a few shows…"

"One show," Erik responded.

"One?" she asked, her head shooting up, a questioning glare in her eyes.

"Tomorrow, during _The Point of No Return_, I will cause a distraction. When that happens, leave the stage as quickly as possible. Go to the front of the opera house, and I'll find you. Then we'll get out of the opera house. We'll leave, and we won't come back." Erik was studying her carefully, watching her reaction.

Her gaze lost its questioning fire. "Erik," she began, "I'm not sure about that…"

"Do you not want to be with me anymore?" he whispered. "It's not the first time someone has wanted to stop being with me..."

"No, that's not it at all!" she exclaimed, kneeling down in front of him. She put her hands on his knees and looked into his eyes as she continued. "It's just that…this plan has a large possibility to fall through… A number of things could happen that could ruin it. If we're going to do this tomorrow, we need to do it right."

"Do you have a better idea?" he asked, resting a gloved hand on her face. There was no contempt in his voice; only love.

"Not quite yet…" Christine looked down and closed her eyes. Erik's hand dropped from her face. She imagined the set of _Don Juan_: the large fire pit, the spiral stairs that led up to Don Juan's room… "There has to be a way to escape from the stage without you needlessly endangering yourself…" She voiced aloud. If anyone would know if a way, it was Erik.

"There's only one possible way for that to work," he said. "It would involve keeping Piangi from the stage for as long as I can… And possibly destroying Opera Populaire…"

"Destroy Opera Populaire?" Christine whispered. Though she wasn't fond of the managers and hated Piangi and Carlotta, she didn't want the Opera Populaire destroyed. It had been the only home she had known since her father died. "Is there no way around it?"

"If we do it your way, no, there's not. I would have to get onstage during the show, towards the end. Before that, though, I would loosen the ropes holding the chandelier in place… We could use the rope that extends backstage from the chandelier to swing down through the fire pit under the stage and escape to the tunnels that way, but that would make the chandelier fall…"

"Lighting the opera house on fire," Christine finished. "And when that mixes with the stage lights… It very well could destroy the whole house…"

"Which is what I want to avoid; I may not be overly fond of all of the people here, this is the only home I've ever known… I don't want it to be gone forever…" Erik looked around her dressing room, his eyes mixed with a longing and anger. Christine was surprised when Erik voiced her own thoughts. How well they seemed to know each other's thoughts. "What do you think would work best?"

"Either way, there's so many ways both of these plans could go wrong…" Christine shook her head. "What if we just left now?"

"Someone would catch us before long. The sun is still up, and in case you haven't noticed, I stick out quite a bit in a crowd, especially when the sun is shining."

Christine closed her eyes and told herself how ridiculous that plan was. She knew better than that; there was no way the two of them would get through the crowded streets of Paris without being spotted and turned in.

"Then the main question is, which plan is safer for you?" Christine get to her feet and headed towards the mirror. "It won't matter what plan you chose, I'll be safe either way, Raoul will make sure of that. But if the plan goes south, you could be caught and then…"

Erik came to stand behind her. She watched his reflection, seeing if his face would show any fear. If he was afraid, he refused to show it. The only thing that showed on his face was love and compassion for her. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her. "This comes down to your decision. What do you feel more comfortable with?"

She wished he hadn't said that. Christine rested her head against Erik's chest and began to think. If they went with the Erik's original plan, he would have to cause a very serious distraction, and he could be caught. But if they followed the second plan and he came on stage during the performance, nothing would stop Raoul from having him killed than-and-there. He didn't care anything for the audience's safety or their opinions of the opera house, as long as he captured Erik and had Christine for himself.

Finally, she came to a decision. "The first plan is safest… Can you cause a big enough distraction for both of us to get away safely?"

"My dear, I will cause the biggest distraction Paris has ever seen." He kissed her before letting go and opening the mirror. "Until tomorrow, Mademoiselle." He turned his back on her and started back toward his lair.

That was the last time Christine would see him before _Don Juan Triumphant_finally opened


	17. Opening Night

**17. Opening Night**

Firmin and André had Christine and Piangi run through the show ten more times the morning _Don Juan Triumphant _opened. When the managers were finally satisfied, the pair was released to go get costumes on and makeup done. Madame Giry offered to help Christine get ready, and she had eagerly accepted. As she was getting her dress on, Madame Giry called to her, "What's going to happen tonight, Christine?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, pulling the sleeves of her dress up.

"I know that you and Erik are planning something but I don't know what. What are you thinking you're going to do?"

Christine came back into the main dressing room, wearing the dress that Erik had designed. It was made of silk, and was the thinnest dress Christine had ever worn. The sleeves of the dress were white, and were designed to easily slip down her shoulders for the final number. The bodice of the dress was black, and the skirt was a dark gold. While she didn't like how thin the dress felt, Christine had to admit that is was quite beautiful.

Facing Madame Giry, Christine wondered whether she should tell her what she and Erik were planning. She responded slowly, "I'm not sure if I can tell you…"

With a sight, Madame Giry took Christine's hand and led her back to the vanity. She picked up a red flower from the desk that would be pinned in Christine's hair, and started to fasten it in. "Christine, if there is anyone you can trust at this opera house other than Erik, it is me. I would never betray your or Erik's secret. Despite what he may think, I do care for him. I don't want to see him hurt."

"Do you ever regret doing it, Madame Giry? Are there ever days when you wish you hadn't brought him?" Christine had no idea where the question came from, but she realized that since she had met Erik, she had wanted to know if Madame Giry regretted her actions with Erik all those years ago.

Madame Giry didn't respond right away. She had sudden interest in the flower that was now resting on Christine's head. "No, Christine, I don't regret bringing him here, but I do regret letting him stay. Especially since he started seeing you, I've been thinking that I should have let him regain his strength here and then sent him somewhere far away…England, maybe, or even America… He could have made a fresh start there. Erik shouldn't have stayed under the opera house his whole life."

Christine turned to look at Madame Giry and said, "We're leaving, tonight."

"What?"

"Erik and I spoke last night, and we've come up with a plan that we think will work. He's going to get me away from Raoul and Carlotta and Piangi… We're going to get away from the opera house." Christine started telling Madame Giry what they had decided.

"Do you really think that will work, Christine?" she asked. "Have you considered what could happen to you both if this plan fails? I won't be able to protect you…_either _of you."

Christine realized that Madame Giry hadn't really been talking about her. They both knew that as cold as Raoul was, he wouldn't let her get in trouble for Erik's actions; he would pass off her disappearance as a failed kidnapping attempt. It was Erik that would be in the most immediate danger. No one would be able to protect Erik from Raoul or the police.

"We've both considered what could happen if this plan doesn't work, but we _have _to try. If we stay here much longer, we'll definitely be found out. Raoul will get the police down to Erik, and he'll be taken to the prison… Then Raoul will have me… We've decided the risk of trying to get away tonight is smaller than the risk of us staying any longer."

Madame Giry didn't respond, only finished Christine's makeup. "You are taking a very serious risk by doing this, but if someone finds out the truth of what you two are doing, it won't be from me."

Too soon for Christine's liking, the doors opened and the audience began to flow in. The seats filled; it was a usual night for Opera Populaire. Every seat in the house had someone sitting in it, and Christine's hope in their plan's success began to wane. Rumors had been spread about what the plot of _Don Juan Triumphant _was about had spread through Paris, and they were all true. Christine had half hoped that the rumors would keep away most of their normal audience, but she could see that, if anything, the rumors had increased the audience numbers.

The curtain opened, and Erik's masterpiece began. Christine made sure to keep in character for the time she was on stage, even though it was obvious that the audience wasn't fully enjoying the show. It was too different for most of their tastes. It seemed to take forever, but finally, _The Point of No Return_ began. Christine's heart began to race. Erik's distraction would be coming soon.

_What raging fire shall flood the soul?_

_What rich desire unlocks its door?_

_What sweet seduction lies before us?_

Piangi sang. Piangi had nearly finished his verses in the number, and Christine's were coming up quickly. So where was Erik? If he didn't distract the people in the house before they had reached the platform above the stage that served as Don Juan's room, there would be no easy get-away for her. As Christine started her verses, her heart pounded.

_In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining_

_Defenseless and silent. And not I am here with you_

_No second thoughts; I've decided. Decided._

_Past the point of no return, no going back now..._

Just when she thought all hope was lost, Erik's voice sounded from the balcony behind the chandelier. "All I asked was for you to leave Box Five empty. It's the simplest request I could possibly make! But you still can't follow it, can you?"

Christine looked to see Raoul sitting in Box Five, the same box he had been sitting in every night since he had first seen her sing on Carlotta's behalf. He was smiling smugly at the balcony behind the chandelier, and was gesturing to the police. Looking around, Christine realized that every eye was turned to where Erik was standing. No one was watching them. As fast as she could, she turned and fled from the stage.

She didn't stop running until she'd reached the large staircase that led to the front door. Christine stopped at the top of the stairs and doubled over, trying to catch her breath. Now, she had to wait for Erik. He wouldn't be long; he knew how fast they had to get away, or they risked being caught.

Christine straightened out and looked around. The halls looked deserted, but she had a feeling she was being watched. It wasn't the same feeling she had when Erik was watching her; she felt safe and protected whenever Erik was nearby. This was a cold and fearful feeling she had, but she had no idea what was causing her unease.

"Hello?" she called softly. No reply. Footsteps sounded behind her, and she smiled in relief. Erik had finally come. "I was worried that they'd…" she turned and found herself facing Raoul.

"You were worried they'd what, Little Lottie?"

Before she could turn and flee, Raoul grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, and lifted her off the ground. He began carrying her down the stairs towards the exit. "Let go of me, Raoul!" she screeched, trying to get her arms free.

"The Phantom is here, Little Lottie; I need to get you to safety!" he told her. They had reached the first landing. "I'm going to protect you, Little Lottie, don't worry! That sick murderer won't get you while I'm here."

In fear, Christine did the only thing she could think of. "Erik!" she screamed. If anyone could protect her from Raoul, it was him. After all, he'd been doing it since the night of her first gala. "Erik, help!"

"He won't help you, Christine!" Raoul said as they continued down the stairs. "If he finds us, he'll kill us! He's dangerous; why can't you see that?!"

"Erik, please! Don't let him take me! Erik!"

Just as suddenly as the night on the rooftop, Erik appeared. He was standing at the top of the stairwell, anger and worry in his eyes. Christine smiled as she watched him approach at a run, and turned to face Raoul, wanting to see his face. Her heart froze when she saw that he wasn't afraid, but looked as if he'd won something.

Raoul's promise from only a few weeks before echoed through her mind: _"You will lead me to him one of these days, Christine. Whether you mean to or no, it will be you who delivers Erik up to me." _That was when she saw the police. They had been hiding in the shadows, waiting for Erik to appear. Christine had been the bait. She had delivered Erik to the police.

They came out of the shadows and charged at Erik, and soon had him pinned to the ground. No sound escaped Christine as she watched, unable to help the man she loved. _No! _Her mind screamed. _No! How could it have all gone so wrong?!_

"It will be alright now, Christine. Everything is going to be okay," Raoul whispered in her ear. "Look, they'll keep him down."

The first scream escaped when she saw how they intended to keep him from fighting back; one of the officers lifted a nightstick, and brought it down on Erik's back. The sound of the nightstick hitting skin made her want to be sick.

"No!" she screamed. "Please, no!" She might as well have been talking to herself, for all the good her pleading did. More of the officers joined the first as Christine's screams fell on deaf ears. "Please stop! You'll kill him! Stop!"

One of the officers standing watch crossed over to Raoul and Christine. "Viscount," he said, "I suggest you take the woman and leave. She shouldn't be made to witness this." She could see by the strained look on his face that this wasn't what he had intended to happen.

"Of course; thank you, captain." Raoul turned them away and started back down the stairs. Helplessly, Christine struggled against his iron grip, trying to get free. She had to help Erik! But Raoul had her firmly restrained, and she could do nothing but listen to her screams, mixing with the sickening _whack _of the nightsticks and Erik's cries of pain. _This is wrong, this is all wrong! How could things have gone so badly?_

She hadn't even realized that Raoul had gotten them outside until she found herself stuffed hastily into a carriage. She also found that her screams had turned to helpless, distraught whimpers. Raoul climbed in next to her and the carriage began to move.

He turned to face her and asked, "Are you alright, Little Lottie?"

"I hate you," she whispered. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" her voice grew louder with each sentence until she was shouting. Christine beat her fists against Raoul's chest, but he didn't flinch away. She wasn't hurting him in the slightest, she knew, but she didn't want to stop hitting him. "Why can't you see that Erik and I love each other?! I want to be with him, not you!"

"He's a murderer, Christine." Raoul gripped her wrists, preventing her from hitting him again. "In time, Little Lottie, you will see that everything I did tonight was to protect you from him. He's dangerous, and he'd eventually kill you once he'd grown tired of you."

"What were the police doing?! They're not _allowed _to do that!"

"They _are _allowed to do that; they had to make sure he was subdued. He would kill them all if he wasn't, you know that."

"They could have gone about it any other way! They were beating him, Raoul! You have to see how wrong that was!" Hissing, she continued, "And if he did get fre and kill them all, he would have had good reason!"

To her disgust, Raoul wrapped his arms around her.

"I hate you," she said through the tears, trying to push him away.

Without taking his arms from around her, he whispered in her ear, "One day, Little Lottie, that hate will turn to love. I promise."


	18. Prisoner

**Author's Note: **I have some bad news. Sadly, my winter break is ending in a few days. I have today, Saturday, and Sunday before I'm back in school. That means that there will be less updates weekly, especially as things really start picking up (and since I have some advanced classes, that means things aren't going to stay slow for very long). I'm hoping to keep updating (at the bare minimum) once a week, but some weeks will be better than others. I could get a week where I can post two or more chapters, or weeks where I've gone dead silent. It all depends on my teachers and the amount of work they're loading on.

Well, I guess that's it for now. Enjoy the next chapter, and thanks for the continued support! ~Shella

**18. Prisoner**

On their way from Opera Populaire, Christine must have fallen asleep. The next thing she knew, she was waking up in a large bed covered in a heavy quilt. At first, she was confused, but soon she remembered everything that happened the night before. The police had Erik and Raoul had her. She stifled a sob as she remembered the scene that had played out before her last night. This couldn't be happening to her. It had to be someone else who had witnessed the brutal arrest the night before; it had to be someone else the police had arrested.

Trying to keep herself from crying, Christine sat up and looked around. The room was unfamiliar to her; the floor was carpeted in red wool, and the walls were painted scarlet. Paintings of different scenes from history decorated the walls, and a wooden bedside table held a vase of flowers. She knew she as at the de Chagny family home, but she had never seen this room before. Quickly, Christine crossed the room and tried the door. It opened. _It's unlocked? Does Raoul really think I won't try to leave? _With a shudder she thought, _Or maybe there's another reason I can't..._

She slid out of the room and started down a long hallway. She followed the wooden walls and soon found herself standing at the top of a flight of stairs. Christine hurried down them and started for what she assumed would be the front door. She had almost made it when an unfamiliar voice called from behind her. "Mademoiselle, the Viscount is waiting for you. Breakfast has been served."

Christine turned to a see a butler standing in front of a door that led into a dining room. Though he was just one man, she could tell that he was fit; he could easily outrun her. Trying to escape now would never work. After casting a longing look at the door, Christine followed the butler into the room. The table Raoul was sitting at was made of maple wood, and stretched from wall to wall. It looked like it was made to hold at least thirty people. Raoul was sitting at the head of the table, reading a newspaper. As Christine got closer, she could read the headline: PHANTOM OF THE OPERA CAPTURED AT LAST – OPERA POPULAIRE FINALLY FREE.

Raoul put the paper down when he saw her approaching. "Good morning, Little Lottie. How did you sleep?" She sat down without responding, staring sullenly at the plate before her. Frowning her ask, "You look sick; are you feeling well? Should I call for a doctor?"

She tried to decide if it was worth it to not answer Raoul. If she ignored him and he realized his romance for her was worthless, maybe he'd let her go… But where could she go? The one who had promised to take her away was a prisoner in some jail. She had no idea where he was, and even if she did, how could she get him out? With a sigh, Christine decided that staying silent would get her nowhere.

"No, Raoul," she said. "There's no need for that."

"Good; I'm glad." He put the paper back up and began reading again. "Since the Phantom was caught last night, it will be safe for you to return to Opera Populaire. If you want to go back and continue working there as the lead Soprano, I won't mind. And neither will the managers. Now that the danger has passed, it's safe for you to return."

Christine considered saying there was nothing left for her at the Opera Populaire; Erik was gone, and he was the only reason working there was bearable. But as she opened her mouth to respond, she realized that there was still a reason for her to go back. In fact, there were two. Meg and Madame Giry were at Opera Populaire. If she had the opportunity to see them again, it would be worth returning, even though the house would be empty without Erik.

"I would like that very much, Raoul," she whispered. "If you're willing to let me return, I would like to."

"Then I'll let the managers know," Raoul mumbled.

By that time, the servants had placed breakfast on the table. Christine took one look at the food and felt sick. She wasn't at all hungry, but when she looked up and saw Raoul watching her expectantly, she began to eat. "We'll have to put a few rules in place, Little Lottie, just in case the Phantom somehow gets loose."

"I don't think you have to worry about that…" Christine said through mouthfuls, remembering what the police had been during to Erik when they arrested him.

"I don't think I have to either, but it's better safe than sorry. You won't go anywhere without an escort, and it will either be me that goes with you or my butler, Mitchell. Fair?" Christine didn't answer. "I'll take your silence as a yes…" he inferred. Sighing, he climbed to his feet. "I find I have no appetite; I'm off to the opera house. Perhaps it will be best for you to stay home for a few days, while you…recover."

Raoul walked to her, kissed her on the cheek, and disappeared through the door. The newspaper was lying, forgotten on the table. Looking around to make sure she was alone, Christine stood up and walked to where Raoul had been sitting. She picked up the newspaper and read the first page; it was the story about Erik.

_PHANTOM OF THE OPERA CAUGHT: OPERA POPULAIRE FINALLY FREE_

_By: Tristan Shaw_

_ Last night was the opening night for Opera Populaire's most hyped show, _Don Juan Triumphant. _While critics went to the show thinking they would be posting a review in this morning's paper, instead a story of even greater "triumph" has been posted. The fully story is as follows:_

_ During the final act of the show, the well-known Phantom of the Opera (or the Opera Ghost) made an appearance. He made his presence well known by addressing the audience, and while they were distracted, the lead Soprano for the opera house, Christine Daaé slipped away. _

_ The Phantom had apparently approached the lead Soprano earlier that night, and told her that if she didn't meet him at the front of the opera house, he would kill her. He also told her that if she told_ anyone _what he was planning, she would be killed. _He_ intended to kidnap her, and whether his intent was murder or worse, we will never know. Thankfully, it was the Viscount de Chagny who found Christine before the Phantom did, and he was able to protect her. When the Phantom finally arrived, he was quickly subdued by the officers present and arrested._

_ The infamous Phantom, who for so long had been terrorizing the cast at Opera Populaire, was taken into custody last night and is being held at the prison house in the center of Paris under heavy guard, awaiting the announcement his execution date. As the evidence was stacked so highly against him, the Phantom will not be tried._

_ Meanwhile, business at Opera Populaire is to continue as normal. Christine Daaé is currently living with the Viscount de Chagny under his careful protection. While it is unknown whether or not she will return to her position as the lead Soprano at Opera Populaire, the Viscount and managers have promised to approach her with the offer. _

_ Any future showings of _Don Juan Triumphant _have been cancelled._

Christine threw the paper down, feeling sick. Whoever had sent in the story of what had happened last night made sure that Erik was pictured as the kidnapper, when really it was Raoul who had done the kidnapping. Now, no matter what Christine said to anyone, it would look like she was trying to cover the fact that Erik tried to "kidnap" her. There was no hope of her getting him free now. Not with the story printed in the most-read newspaper in all of Paris.

She backed against the wall and slid to the floor, hiding her face in her skirt. Christine didn't look up as the door to the dining room opened and someone entered.

"Mademoiselle, are you alright?" the person asked tentatively. She recognized the butler's voice.

"Your name is Mitchell, am I correct?" she asked, ignoring the question. If he was who Christine thought he was, there was no way she would tell him what was wrong.

"Yes, Mademoiselle," he responded.

Christine still refused the answer his first question. Perhaps he wasn't very loyal to the Viscount. She asked the question that would decide it."How long have you served the Viscount?"

"My whole, Mademoiselle; my family has been serving the de Chagny's for generations. His great-great-great-great grandfather took _my _great-great-great-great grandfather off the streets. He gave him food off his table, a warm place to stay, money, and education... My family owes him everything." Christine had her answer. She would tell him nothing. "Is there anything I can do? Someone I can call?"

Taking a deep breath, Christine climbed to her feet. "Nothing's the matter, Mitchell," she lied. "I'm returning to my room. Have the maids draw a bath… Other than that, I wish not to be disturbed."

"As you wish, Mademoiselle," Mitchell said with a bow. He disappeared without questioning her.

Christine started towards the large staircase. Raoul may think he had her fooled, but she knew the reason he had told her that she couldn't go anywhere without Mitchell or himself with her was so her could keep her away from where Erik was being held.

Immediately, Christine came to a decision. Raoul could give her the biggest room, the best food, and as many servants as he wanted; Raoul was holding her prisoner, keeping her from doing the one thing she really wanted, from seeing the one person she needed to see.

_Well,_ Christine thought,_ he can try everything her wants to keep me away from where the police were keeping Erik, but he'll soon find out that nothing in the world can keep me from seeing him..._ Biting back tears she added to herself,_ If only for one more time._


	19. The Jailhouse

**19. The Jailhouse**

It took Christine only a day to form a full plan. Albeit, it wasn't a very good plan; it had many holes and so many chances to go wrong, but it was the best she could come up with on such short notice. She didn't know how long she had before Erik's execution, and she had to see him again. So, on the second day of her stay at the de Chagny estate, she put her plan into action.

She didn't go down the breakfast, causing Raoul to come and check on her. Christine was confused to see actual worry in his eyes, with no other emotion there. There was no anger, no cruelty, none of that cold fire that she had seen while he had been attempting to court her at Opera Populaire. Her confusion slowly melted as she remembered what she needed to do. Christine coughed, long and hard, as Raoul crossed the room.

"Little Lottie," he said, sitting by her side. "Are you alright?" His voice was filled with real compassion and worry, none of the ice she had come to expect.

Making her voice as hoarse as possible, Christine said, "I had a rough night, last night, Raoul. I'll be down in a moment. Just let me…" she tried to sit up, only to collapse and let out another round of coughs.

"No, stay down, Little Lottie; you're obviously not feeling well… I'll send for a doctor, alright?"

"Oh, no Raoul, there's no need for that. This is just a cold; it'll pass." Christine looked over at Raoul with sad eyes. "I don't want you to waste money on something that a doctor can't help."

Raoul placed a hand on her forehead. For the second time since Raoul had started courting her, Christine didn't flinch away and she didn't shudder in disgust at his touch. She had felt this way only once before, when she had reached the side of Raoul she knew as a girl that day after she visited her father's grave. That same Raoul was sitting with her now; it was her Raoul. And, for a moment, Christine wavered. Maybe she should just let it go… But as she thought of Erik, who could be facing his execution in only a matter of hours, she steeled herself. She had to go through with this.

"It'd be best if you just went about your normal business. I'll be fine."

With one last genuine frown, Raoul nodded. He leaned down and kissed her forehead before exiting the room. She sat in dead silence as his footsteps disappear. Christine listened as he reached the door, called out a farewell, and exited the house.

Once she was sure he was gone, Christine climbed out of bed and changed. She picked out the simplest dress she had; she couldn't draw attention to herself. No matter what happened, Raoul _must not _learn what she was doing.

When she was dressed, she went over to a small box she had at the foot of her bed. Raoul had had Madame Giry pack some of Christine's things from the opera house and had her send them sent to his estate. Christine had discovered last night that Madame Giry had packed away Erik's cape. It was that cape that she grabbed and threw around her shoulders.

Finally ready, she went to the door and started down the hallway. Most of the servants, she knew, would be in the different rooms, cleaning or preparing food for when Raoul returned. For the most part, she wasn't worried about the house servants. She could talk her way around them. It was Mitchell she was afraid of running into. If Mitchell caught her, he wouldn't let her leave and Raoul would learn what she had planned.

Her heart racing, Christine slowly went down the stairs and reached the door. Panting, she grabbed the handle and pulled the door open. She slipped outside, unable to believe her luck; she had gotten out of the house, undetected.

Reaching into a pocket in her dress, she pulled money from it. Counting it, she assured herself that she had enough to pay a coachman for the trip there and back. When she reached the main street, she hailed a coach and told the driver where to go. He didn't even question why she wanted to go there; it probably helped when she showed him how much she had to pay him with.

Now that she was out of the house, she was more confident in her plan. Her heart began to pound once more when the carriage finally stopped by the jailhouse. Perhaps he had already been executed? No, that would have been all over the news… He was still alive. What if they wouldn't let her through to see him? No, they _had _to. Once they knew who she was…

Doubts and counterarguments swirled through her mind as Christine walked up the stairs. She entered the jailhouse and went up to the officer working the front desk. She recognized him as the captain of the police force. "How may I help you, Mademoiselle?" he asked without looking up.

"I wish to look upon the face of the man who tried to kidnap me," she said officially. _Can he hear my heart beating this quickly? Will he see how nervous I am? _She wondered in fear.

The officer looked up and his eyes widened when he saw her. "Mademoiselle Daaé… Are… Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Do you not think you have him properly restrained?"

"No, it's not that… It's just… He's _dangerous_, Mademoiselle. Even restrained, he presents a danger."

"Monsieur, please understand me. This man tried to ruin me. I want to look on his face before he is killed for his crimes so he may know that the life I will lead will be better than he could have ever imagined. He needs to know that he did _not _succeed in destroying my future."

She was winning him over. Christine could see his gaze softening, and he was beginning to nod. "I understand." Climbing to his feet, he said, "Mademoiselle, please follow me." Before walking past her, he leaned in and said, "And I'll even let you have him alone…in case you want to do something that could be considered…outside the law."

Christine smiled, her stomach clenching at what he meant, but grateful the officers wouldn't be watching in on her. If they had been, there was no way she would be able to do what she needed to. They arrived at a large, metal door at the back of the jailhouse watched by three guards. "Gentle, Mademoiselle Daaé would like to speak to her attempted kidnapper…alone."

The officers didn't question it; only walked down the hall to where she and the captain had come from. "Take all the time you need," he told her gently, unlocking the door for her. "And I will be locking you in, Mademoiselle. Just another precaution. Scream if things go...wrong."

She could hardly breathe as she stepped in. She heard the door close behind her. There was no going back now.

The room was pitch black, and it was taking her eyes a lot longer to adjust than she thought it would. She was losing time with him.

Somewhere towards the back of the room, she heard chains clinking. Her heart jumped to her throat as her vision finally finished adjusting. Now that she could see, she wished more than anything that her eyes hadn't adjusted. Curled up on the floor at the back of the room was a man in rags, chained by his wrists and ankles to the floor. This couldn't be him; not her Erik. He looked so...defeated.

"Erik," she whispered, her voice cracking.

She saw his head lift, as if he dared not to believe it. "Christine?" his voice called to her. It sounded strained and hoarse, as if he hadn't had anything to drink since he had arrived. "Is it really you?"

Swallowing a sob she responded, "Yes, my love, I'm here."

Christine crossed the room and knelt before him. It was harder for her to keep herself from crying when she saw him up close. His face was badly bruised and dried blood matted his hair, as if he had been beaten multiple times. His green eyes no longer glowed with defiance and passion; they were dimmed and filled with pain. For some reason, they had let him keep the mask. Christine figured even _they _couldn't bear to look on Erik's deformed face.

"Oh, Erik," she reached out and touched the unmasked side of his face. "I'm so sorry…"

"Why are you apologizing?" he asked, holding her hand to his face. Erik seemed afraid that if he let go of her hand, she would disappear. While she was thinking that this man couldn't possibly be her Erik, he was thinking that this couldn't possibly be his Christine.

"This is all my fault; Raoul…he said I would deliver you to him… And I did…"

"Did you tell him what we were planning?" he questioned. Christine shook her head. "Did you tell the police where we were going to meet?" She shook her head again. "Then how could this possible be your fault?"

She moved closer and buried her face in his chest. "Erik…" she sobbed. Christine heard the chains clink as Erik put his arms around her, holding as tightly as he could. "What's going to happen now?"

"At the moment, I'm not so sure…" he sighed. "I feel as if I've been in a position similar to this before… It was a long time ago, though… And she was a different girl."

Christine realized that Erik was talking about his childhood, when he had been held a prisoner by a man. He had been used as a side-show freak because of his face. While he had been a prisoner there, the man had beaten him as part of the show and gotten money off of it. It was only thanks to Madame Giry that Erik had escaped. Now, he was reliving his childhood. The regular beatings…the threat of death… The only difference from then was that there seemed to be no one capable of getting him to safety.

"I'm not Madame Giry, Erik… I don't think I can help you like she did…"

"I know you can't, Christine, and I don't expect you to." Erik petted her hair. "You probably shouldn't have come here today, either… Raoul would be furious if he ever knew... But I'm glad you did." His voice cracked as he continued. "I thought I'd die without ever seeing you again… Without hearing your voice…one last time…"

"No, Erik!" she whimpered. "Don't talk like that. This isn't goodbye forever. It can't be! I can't live without you! I don't want to live in a world where you aren't there."

"Oh, Christine," Erik said. Christine was horrified to hear the tears in his voice. He couldn't cry; Erik didn't cry. "This is why I love you…" She pushed back from him and looked to see that he was crying. It was the first time she had ever seen him cry, and that was when she knew that his fate had been decided. Erik would die; it was now only a matter of when. "Will you do me a favor, Christine?" he whispered.

"Anything you ask of me, if it is in my power to grant it."

"Sing for me," he whispered.

She hesitated for only a moment before she finally began. Christine had no idea where the lyrics came from, but they felt right, as if they were meant for the two of them. Keeping her voice low so the guards wouldn't hear, she began to sing.

_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Let me lead you from your solitude._

_Say you need me with you, here, beside you_

_Anywhere you go let me go too_

_That's all I ask of you_

Erik entered with the next verse. While his voice was hoarse and choked with tears, Christine still smiled at how beautiful it sounded.

_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Say the word and I will follow you_

Christine came in and they sang together, for the first time in what felt like years.

_Share each day with me, each night, each morning._

Erik sang.

_Say you love me…_

Christine responded.

_You know I do._

Then, together:

_Love me, that's all I ask of you_.

She felt her heart break when the song ended; she wanted it to go on forever. "Thank you, Christine," Erik whispered.

Slowly, unwillingly, Christine pushed away from him. "I have to go… If I don't hurry, Raoul will find out I've left…"

"Go," he told her. "All I want is for you now is for you to be safe."

Before she left, she leaned in and kissed him. Erik kissed her back, more passionately than ever before. This would be their last kiss, she knew. If she ever saw him again, it would be at the gallows. When she finally pushed back, she held onto his shirt for a moment longer, unwilling to let go.

"I love you, Christine," he whispered.

"And I love you." Brushing away tears, Christine climbed to her feet and knocked on the door. The captain opened it and she walked out, blinking as the light blinded her.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle? Did he hurt you?" he asked, furious when he saw the tears on her cheeks.

Hoping to save Erik from another beating, Christine answered, "No, Monsieur; it was just…very emotional. Facing those that try to harm you is difficult, but it needed to be done." He nodded and led her back to the front of the jailhouse. "Has a date been set yet?"

"Not yet," he told her with a cruel smile. "But don't worry. It will be soon."

Christine left the jailhouse, still hearing Erik's sobs, still seeing his tear-streaked face.

The whole way home, their duet spun through her mind. When she finally got back, she came in through the front door, closing it behind her with a sigh.

Before she could turn around, her blood ran cold as an icy voice called, "And just where have you been?"

Raoul had come home before her.


	20. The Gift

**20. The Gift**

Christine stared speechless at Raoul, unable to believe that he had come home before her. His eyes were filled with that cold fire she had come to fear, and he was glaring at her with such anger and hatred, she wished she could wither away and disappear. "Raoul…" she said, trying to come up with some excuse as to why she had gone out. "I can explain…" she lied.

"Then please do, Christine," Raoul hissed, crossing his arms. After a moment of silence, Raoul continued, "Not only did you lie to me, but you broke the one rule I put in place. It was to keep you safe, Christine, in case he got loose."

She bowed her head, afraid to meet Raoul's gaze. "I didn't expect you to be home until much later."

"When I told the managers you were feeling ill, they decided that after we reviewed the paperwork, I could go home and take care of you." His anger faded as he went on, "I was so worried about you when I left this morning, and when I came home and saw Mitchell was here and you weren't, I was terrified… Where were you?"

Now that she knew that Raoul had been at the Opera Populaire, Christine knew she couldn't use that as her excuse. She started thinking of things that she could say. "I…I was visiting my father's grave again. I wanted to go see him again."

"Why didn't you take Mitchell with you?"

"I wanted to be alone," she said.

"He still could have driven you, then waited for you at the gate. You didn't have to sneak off all on your own."

"Raoul, I just needed time to think about everything that had happened. Having someone else with me would have made it impossible."

He came over to her and looked her up and down, suspiciously eyeing her dress. "What's that?" he asked, gesturing to the skirt of her gown. Christine looked down and felt fear flood through her again. The skirt of her dress was covered in dust. "I may not know much about the graveyard where you father's buried, but I don't think they'd leave it that dusty which tells me that you've lied to me. So I ask again; where were you?"

"I was just…" Christine fished for a response, but she hesitated for a moment too long. Raul grabbed her arm and dragged her up the staircase. "Raoul, let me go! You're hurting me!"

Without responding, he pulled her down the hall and threw open the door to her bedroom. He pushed her inside and glared down at her. "You can stay in here until you learn how to tell the truth." Raoul turned and slammed the door shut. Christine heard him lock it behind him.

"NO!" she shouted, crawling over to the door. Christine slammed her fists against it, trying to break it down. "Let me out, Raoul! You can't do this!" She hammered on the door, screaming at Raoul to let her go. There was no response.

Finally, when her hands could take it no longer, Christine slummed to the floor and glared at the wall across the room. Raoul had chosen her cell well; there were no windows in her room, no way out save the door that he had just locked behind him. Despite now really being a prisoner because of she refused to tell Raoul where she had been, she wouldn't let Raoul find out what she had done, and she would never regret it. Seeing Erik for those few moments and made her happier, and sadder, than she had ever been. Hopefully now, they could both be at peace.

Time passed; Christine wasn't sure how much. The only thing she knew of the world now was this room, her prison. Raoul had kept her locked in the room, keeping her away from any and all information from the outside world. She had no idea if Erik had been executed yet or not, and none of the servants who brought her her meals were forthcoming with information.

She kept up with her health; eating everything the servants brought her and bathing regularly. Christine refused to show Raoul how desperate she was for any kind of information, or how upset she was by the thought that Erik could be gone. Even though she didn't know for sure, Christine stayed hopeful. For all she knew, he had managed escaped from the prison, and was planning to come get her. He was very smart, and could have worked out an escape. She couldn't know unless someone came to tell her, and as the days went on, everything stayed silent.

One day, as Christine was coming from the bathroom, she heard the door to the bedroom unlock and open. "Little Lottie?" Raoul called to her.

"I'm here," she said icily. Christine had made no attempt to hide her hatred towards Raoul, but it didn't seem to bother him. She noticed, looking at him, that Raoul was in a rather good mood today. He wore a cold smile on his face and was holding a wrapped box under his arm. "What's that?"

"I brought you a present." He held the box out to her. Christine took the box and went over to her bed. It was a long, thin box, wrapped in green paper tied with a golden bow. Raoul followed her to her bed and watched her expectantly. "Go ahead, Little Lottie," he urged. "Open it."

"How long have I been held here?" she asked, staring at the package warily.

"It's been one week since…your outing," he told her. "Are you ready to tell me where you were?" When she didn't respond, Raoul sighed and said again, "Aren't you going to open your present, Little Lottie? You have no idea how hard I worked to get it for you."

_You probably didn't even lift a finger. _ She thought. Christine pulled the ribbon loose and placed it beside her on the bed. Raoul was watching her with that scary, cold smile. Her heart began to pound as she ripped open the paper. A small box was revealed underneath. Cold dread seeped into her heart as she pulled the lid off the box.

Her hand shot to her mouth and she scrambled off the bed, as far away from Raoul and the box as she could get. Raoul had brought her Erik's mask.

"Don't you like it?" Raoul asked, smiling bigger. "I had to jump through some…legal hoops to get it for you, but I thought you'd like to have it."

Raoul reached into the box and held up the mask. Christine felt tears ran down her face as she realized this was the information she had been waiting for. There was only one way Raoul could have had that. There was only one way he could be holding it in his hand now.

Erik had been executed.


	21. Surrounded by Death

**Author's Note: **The inevitable happened. School's back in session. That means updates are going to be fewer and further between. I know, it stinks. I wish I could just sit at my computer all day and type this up for you all, but, sadly, I can't. So, far now, here's the next chapter. Thanks for your patience and support! ~Shella DragoNoid

**21. Surrounded by Death**

Raoul was still watching her with the cold smile; it was triumph on his face, Christine knew. He finally had what he had been after; Erik was dead, and there was no one Christine could go to if she escaped. She would stay with Raoul now only because she had nowhere else to go. And that was all he wanted, her to stay forever. Raoul stood and came over to her, still holding the mask. Christine shrank back from Raoul and the piece of cloth in his hands as if they were poison.

She stared up at him with pain and tears in her eyes. "When…?" was all she could ask.

"Oh, I'd say…two days after you went to visit him." Raoul nodded. _He knows?! _Christine thought. He must have seen the confusion in her eyes, so he went on, "The captain told me that that was where you were a week ago. You went to see him one last time."

Christine looked at the floor and took a deep breath, trying to get herself under control. Raoul stood quietly while she recollected her thoughts. When she was silent for a while longer, he finally said, "Come now, Christine, you knew what his fate was. That was why you went to go see him wasn't it, to say goodbye? You know that he was going to die soon, so you snuck out to see him."

"Why would you…that?" she pointed at the mask, choking on tears.

"I thought you'd want to have it," he frowned, as if confused. "It's the last thing you have of him, and I thought you'd like to have something to hold onto. Something that was his…"

She glared at him, trying to figure out what he was playing it. While on the surface, him giving her the mask seemed cruel, heartless. He was bragging to her that Erik was actually gone. But if what he said was true, he had given it to her so she would have something of Erik's close by, all the time. Something to remember him by… But she had her voice. That had been his greatest gift to her, something special Erik had given her. She didn't need the mask. But Raoul seemed to be in a good mood, and she didn't want to spoil it by turning away his…gift.

Christine reached out and took the mask from him. "Thank you," she whispered through the tears.

Raoul nodded and went back to the bed, taking the box and wrapping paper with him. "You can come down to dinner when you're ready, Little Lottie." He exited the room, closing the door but not locking it.

Looking down at the mask, a fresh wave of grief washed over her. Christine clutched it to her chest as tears flooded down her face. "You can't be gone, Erik… You can't be…" Her immortal, indestructible angel...gone.

She slowly found her way back to the bed and curled up under the covers. Still holding the mask to her chest, Christine buried her face in her pillow and screamed. She felt like someone had ripped her heart out and there was no way for her to take it back. No one could bring him back from the dead, and there would never be another Erik. She would never have another angel of music.

As time went on, Christine didn't to leave her room, but this time the only reason she was a prisoner any longer was because she chose to be. Raoul had unlocked the door; she could leave whenever she wanted. But she didn't want to. She never wanted to face the world again.

_"I can't live without you! I don't want to live in a world where you aren't there."_ That was what Christine had told Erik the last time she had seen him. She _didn't _want to live in a world where Erik wasn't there to sing to her, to practice with her, to hold her. For her, there was no life without Erik.

Days began to blur together. The servants brought her food and water, but Christine refused to eat. "Mademoiselle, you must eat," they begged her. "It's not healthy for you to starve yourself."

Still, Christine refused to eat. Eventually Raoul called for a doctor, but the only thing he could tell Raoul anything he hadn't already put together. "She's depressed, Monsieur, and if she doesn't get better soon, she will die."

When he realized the doctor would be of no help, Raoul called the one person left that could be able to help her; Madame Giry.

Madame Giry finally arrived at the de Chagny estate and went straight to Christine's room, not wasting time to ask Raoul what was wrong. She looked down sadly at the girl who had been her adopted daughter. She had once been so proud and happy, full of life. The Christine laying before her now had none of that fire, none of the life that had once graced her.

Sitting down on the bed next to her, Madame Giry said, "Oh, my dear, Christine… What has become of you?"

Christine looked up at Madame Giry and felt her wave of grief hit her anew. Madame Giry had been the one that had rescued Erik when he was a child. She had brought him to the opera house all those years ago, had been one of his only confidants. Did she struggle knowing that Erik was gone forever? If she did, she didn't show it.

"He's gone, Madame Giry," she said hoarsely. "He's really gone."

She didn't respond at first, only looked sadly down at Christine. Madame Giry placed her hand on Christine's forehead and sighed. "You're running a fever, dear… And your thinner than I've ever seen you… What are you doing to yourself?" Christine looked over to the corner of her room where her breakfast sat, untouched. Madame Giry shook her head. "You can't do this to yourself, my dear. If Erik were here, he wouldn't want you to starve yourself."

"I'm not hungry anymore," she responded.

"Think about what you're doing, Christine. You'll kill yourself at this rate."

"At least I'll be with him again," Christine shot back. "When I went to see Erik, I told him I couldn't live without him. And I meant it. There's no point in living in this world if I can't have him with me."

"What about me, Christine? What about Meg? Erik wasn't the only one on this Earth who loved you… And if he was still here, do you think he'd want you to do this to yourself?" Christine shook her head in response. "I didn't think so. You need to eat, and when you're better, you need to come visit me and Meg at the opera house. Come back and preform again. You know that's what he'd want you to do."

Christine nodded. "I do miss seeing you and Meg…"

Madame Giry stood back up and looked at Christine. Her eyes narrowed quizzically as she noticed that Christine was holding something. "What's that, dear?" she asked, pointing to the white thing in Christine's hand.

Biting her lower lip, trying to keep from breaking into a fresh wave of sobs, Christine pulled out the mask so it was in clear view. Madame Giry's face betrayed no emotion as Christine handed it up to her. "Raoul got it…said he wanted me to have something personal of Erik's…"

"He didn't give this to you out of the kindness of his heart, Christine. This is his reminder to you that he was victorious. This is his reminder that he's won. You can't keep it, dear."

"I need it, Madame," Christine cried, tears finding their way down her face. "It's all I have left of him! Every time I hold it, it's almost like he's with me again."

Madame Giry looked sadly down at Erik's mask. Tears were shining in her eyes. "I gave this to Erik when he first came to the opera house… He seemed content in just having that bag over his head, but I found it to be a reminder of where he came from... Of his horrible past... So I gave him this as a replacement… It was his first true mask… His favorite..."

In anger, Christine nearly screamed at Madame Giry; talking about Erik in the past tense made his death all too real, all too close. But she knew that the way Madame Giry spoke was correct; Erik was gone, and no matter what tense they talked about him in, he would stay gone.

"I'm sorry," Christine whispered, controlling her anger. That mask must have meant so much more to Madame Giry than it did to her. "If you want it…"

"No," Madame Giry said, shaking her head to clear it. "No, there's no need for me to keep it. I think…I think he'd want you to have it anyway." She looked at it one last time with longing before handing it back with a sad smile. "Will you start taking care of yourself and come visit me?"

"Yes, I will. I promise." Christine nodded.

Madame Giry's smile brightened and she kissed Christine on the forehead, then turned and left the room. While she had only stayed for a short while, seeing her again had rejuvenated Christine. She began to eat again, to bathe again, she started going outside more. The prospect of seeing her and Meg began to make her happy and healthy again. And a week later, Christine found herself walking down the streets towards Opera Populaire, ready to see them again.

The moment she reached the opera house, she knew something was wrong. The maids were silent going grimly about their duties, and no one was standing in the halls talking. Worried, Christine started for the ballet dormitories. She soon reached Madame Giry's office, and opened the door. It was empty.

Hurrying out of the office, she went to the dormitories where the ballerinas were sitting on their beds, speaking in hushed tones. Christine looked around, trying to find Meg. When she couldn't find her, Christine grabbed one of the other ballerinas that she knew. "Excuse me, but have you seen Meg?"

The girl's face darkened and she looked at the floor. "She's out at the moment."

"What about her mother, Madame Giry? Is she around?"

Sadly, the ballerina looked up at Christine. "You haven't heard, have you?" Christine shook her head, urging the girl to continue. "I'm sorry, mademoiselle, but Madame Giry…she died yesterday."

Christine felt as if the floor had fallen out beneath her feet. "What?"

"She…she was very ill this last month. The doctor's tried to save her, but they…they weren't able to. They say she died peacefully, though, in her sleep. She wouldn't have felt any pain… Meg's at the funeral home, making final arrangements. Messieurs Firmin and André are with her…" the girl rambled.

Slowly, Christine sank to the floor. This couldn't be happening. She was losing everyone. The angel of death was standing at her shoulder, but instead of just killing her and ending her torment, he was killing everyone around her that cared about her.


	22. The Funeral

**22. The Funeral**

Everything that followed seemed to pass in a blur. Christine had gone to Madame Giry's office and collapsed in the chair behind her desk. She didn't know how long she was there, but after a while, Raoul came looking for her. The door opened and he came in, looking at her with such sadness and compassion, Christine didn't know what to think. Was he actually worried about her? Was Raoul changing back to the person he had been when they were children?

"I got worried when you didn't come home…"

"Did you know?"

"Know what? That Madame Giry had died? No," he told her, shaking his head. "I knew she was sick when she came to visit…I tried to find out what was wrong…She told me it was nothing, that it was just a cold… Turned out that cold was something much, much worse."

Christine closed her eyes, thinking back to when Madame Giry had visited her only a week ago. She had been so lost in her own grief, she must have missed the signs. Looking back on it, Christine realized that Madame Giry had looked thinner, and paler.

When Christine didn't say anything, Raoul continued, "It'll be alright, Christine… I'm going down to the funeral home to see if Meg needs any help. Do you want to come with?"

Christine looked down at what she was wearing; a bright pink dress with lace and frills. "Not in this," she said. "I need to go home and change first… Something black…"

Nodding, Raoul helped Christine to her feet and brought her home. Once they were there, Christine returned to her room and closed the door. She let herself shed a few tears for her lost adopted mother. Madame Giry was the one who had brought her back from the brink of death last week. If it hadn't been for her, Christine would have fully given up on life. Now, Madame Giry was gone.

When she was done changing, she and Raoul went to the funeral home. They found Meg sitting in the back office, alone. Mourning colors didn't suit Meg's personality, even if they did compliment her appearance. Her pale skin and blonde hair mixed well with the black dress.

Taking a deep breath, Christine approached Meg and put her hands on the blonde girl's shoulders. "Meg," she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Meg turned to look at her, fresh tears in her eyes. There was so much pain and sorrow on her face, it was hard for Christine to look at her. This wasn't the Meg Christine had come to love like a sister. "I'm so glad you're here."

Christine knelt down next to Meg and took her hands. "I just heard… I can't believe she's really gone…"

"She seemed immortal, didn't she?" Meg asked, looking at the paperwork on the desk. "She seemed like she would live forever."

Nodding, Christine bit back tears. She couldn't cry now; she had to be strong for Meg. "Madame Giry might not be immortal physically, but her spirit is. She'll live on in you, and in me. Everything she taught us will live on, as long as we never let her fade."

Meg shook her head. "I'll never let her fade," she promised.

Raoul stepped forward and said, "I don't want to seem cruel, Meg, but, has a date been set yet?"

Tears fell down her cheeks and she looked away. Christine shot a hateful glare at Raoul before turning back to Meg. That was more like the man she had come to know these past few months. "Ignore him, Meg. He doesn't mean to be…insensitive."

"I know," Meg nodded. "Everyone's kind of…in shock… I knew she was sick, but I didn't know how bad she was until…until the day she visited you. That morning, she was coughing really badly… Messieurs André and Firmin tried to keep her from leaving, but she said…she said you needed someone with you… Someone to bring you back… She said that after the Phantom, you would need someone to talk to. She went despite the fact that she was sick… No one knows why she thought you'd need someone."

Shaking her head, Christine looked at the floor. She had never told Meg of her feelings and time spent with Erik. Meg just thought that he was a monster, a killer, who had been living under the opera house. Christine considered telling her; after all, Raoul already knew. But she couldn't unload her grief over Erik's execution; not now. Meg's grief over her dead mother was still to fresh to bare her friends burdens.

"She didn't like others to know she wasn't well… Mother tried to hide it from everyone to try to protect them… Everyone liked her and no one wanted to see her weakened. No matter what was wrong, she was always thinking of others…" Meg stated.

Christine laughed softly, trying to be encouraging. "That does sound like her," she whispered.

At that moment, André and Firmin returned with the manager who had been helping them make preparations. Firmin was wearing the most pained expression Christine had ever seen on him. André's eyes were red and puffy from crying. It was the most compassion and sadness she had ever seen them show. It proved that they, too, were only human. The manager had a somber look on his face, but Christine knew better than to think it was real. She had gone through a similar process after her father died. The manager was putting on an act to get more money out of the mourners before him. He fed off death; in fact, his fortune grew from the death and pain of others. This was his time to shine and make a pretty penny.

"I thought, if you're ready, mademoiselle, we could take a look at coffins… Then we can start setting a date," he said, clasping his hands behind his back.

Meg shot hopeless look over at Christine. "Will you stay with me?"

"For as long as you want me," Christine promised.

Meg, Christine, Firmin, André, and Raoul - who had refused to leave Christine alone in her grief - went through the showrooms looking at different caskets. Messieurs André and Firmin had promised to pay for everything; Madame Giry had given them good service in life, and they wanted to repay her in death. They bought the nicest casket they could find; it was made of mahogany and was covered in intricate carvings. Once they had the casket paid for, they found a spot where she would be buried. Finally, they all returned to the manager's office to set a date.

"I think the sooner the better," he told them. "If you want to do a showing for people to pay their final respects, you'll need to do it soon. Otherwise, the body might start to decay…" Christine would have hit him if Raoul hadn't shot the man a warning glance. There was that Raoul she had known so long ago. He seemed indecisive over which man he wanted to be. The manager swallowed, withering under Raoul's gaze, and smiled sheepishly at Meg. "Pardons, mademoiselle… But all the same, you should choose a date close to today."

Meg nodded slowly in agreement. "I think you're right; the sooner the better. So…would two days from now work?"

The manager checked his schedule before saying, "I don't have anyone else scheduled for that two days from now… How about at eight in the morning? Does that work?"

With a final nod and a handshake, everything was prepared. The next two days passed slowly as invitations were sent out, but eventually the day arrived. Madame Giry's closest friends and family were allowed to sit in the front of the building where they could easily access the casket to pay their respects first and where they could best hear the minister give his sermon. When the final remarks were given, everyone was allowed to look one last time at Madame Giry and give their final respects.

Christine went right after Meg. When Madame Giry's daughter was done, Christine walked up to the casket and looked down at her adopted mother. She could have been sleeping; her eyes were closed, and she looked peaceful. The only thing that was different was that she was so pale. Madame Giry had never looked so pale in life.

"I owe you everything, Madame," she whispered so those around her wouldn't hear her. "You gave me a life I couldn't ever dream of. Without you, I never would have found the opera house…never would've become the lead Soprano…never would have met Erik." Choking on a sob, Christine stopped and got herself back under control. "If you hadn't brought me to the opera house, I never would have met the man that I love…I never would have known what love feels like. Thank you, Madame Giry. And may you find peace."

Turning from her for one last time, Christine followed Meg out to the yard where Madame Giry would be buried. When everyone had finished saying goodbye, the casket was brought out. They carefully laid it in the whole that had been previously dug and slowly but surely, Madame Giry was buried away. She would never walk the Earth again, never tutor another ballerina, never choreograph another step for the ballerinas for shows.

No matter what Christine hoped for, no matter what Christine wanted, Madame Giry was gone, and there was no power on this Earth that could bring her back. One by one, the people that loved Christine were dying.


	23. Spiraling

**Author's Note: **Sorry this chapter is so late in coming but I got really sick Saturday morning and am still home from school with what might be strep throat. I hope to write more soon, but for now, hopefully this will tide you over. Thanks everyone for the continued support! ~Shella DragoNoid

**23. Spiraling**

A short while after the funeral, Christine found herself sinking back into depression. Madame Giry had been the one who brought her out the first time, but now she was gone. With Erik and Madame Giry gone, her two greatest loves dead, Christine wanted nothing more than to just die herself. Raoul tried to tell her that she still had Meg and him, but she knew better; Meg had lost herself in her own depression after her mother's death and Raoul was a monster. With no one left to turn to, with no one left to care for her, Christine did the only thing she knew she could do; she returned to Opera Populaire.

Messieurs André and Firmin had been running auditions to find a new lead Soprano, but they'd had little success. When they had first arrived at the opera house, they had been lucky when they'd found Christine after Carlotta's diva tantrum, and replacing Christine, so far, had been impossible.

"We'll never find another one like her, Firmin!" André said, exasperated. They had just finished another round of auditions with no success in finding Christine's replacement. "Miss Daaé had extraordinary talent, a unique gift!"

Firmin nodded his agreement. "She truly was gifted."

"It was all thanks to my wonderful teacher," Christine called from behind them. She had stood by silently, listening to them converse.

They both turned and smiled. "Christine!" Firmin laughed. "Oh, thank goodness you're back! And you're looking so much better! Look at you; last time I saw you, you looked sick! But now you're here, ready to sing for us once again! It's so nice to see you again!"

Christine looked over at the managers of Opera Populaire. She had never liked either of them; they both hated her, and were only glad she was back because she could make them money, and they all knew it. The moment it got out that Christine Daaé would be coming back to sing as Opera Popualire's lead Soprano, the crowds would come rushing in, no matter what show the managers decided to put on. She knew that if they saw profit in it, they would turn on her like ravenous wolves and tear her apart as soon as they would welcome her with hugs and chocolates. They would sooner have Carlotta back than her, for goodness only knew what reason, but if Christine was all they could get, they'd take it.

And they were blind, that was for sure. Christine's grief was still plainly evident. She still wore mourning colors; the only white on her was the underside of the cape she wore. Christine never went anywhere without Erik's cape draped around her; it was one the only things she had left of him. Her skin was paler than it had ever been. She was thin and looked very sick. While to anyone else, it would be thought that the managers were being kind to her, Christine knew better. It was obvious they couldn't see her pain, her sickness; they were oblivious to it. All they could see were their profits returning. How disappointed would they be when Christine responded to them.

"I'm afraid, my dear Messieurs, that I'm not here to start singing for you again. I don't think I could ever sing at this opera house again… There are…too many memories here for me to be able to perform as you would wish. I'm only here to look around my old haunts," Christine informed them. "I'm also here to check on Meg."

Their smiles faded as her words sank in. André was the first to respond. "I see, Mademoiselle. I can understand your…unease. After all, the Phantom nearly kidnapped you the last time you sang on our stage... But, if you ever change your mind, you are always welcome to come and sing for us."

Christine smiled back at him and started towards the stage access door. From there, she headed deeper into the opera house. While she hadn't exactly lied, Christine didn't just plan to go to all of the places she had spent her childhood. She had one other thing she planned to do this day. As she walked down the halls of the opera house, Christine pulled her hand out from behind her back. Christine had brought Erik's mask with her, but she couldn't risk the managers learning she had it. If they found out, they might take it from her. Studying the mask, she brushed the fabric with her thumbs. The reason Christine had brought it was so that when she did what she was planning, she could feel close to Erik. Sighing, she hid the mask under the cape again.

She visited a few rooms and looked around half-heatedly, completely avoiding the lead Soprano's dressing room. When she could no longer stand just walking around, she headed to where Meg was staying. Knocking three times before entering, Christine braced herself for what she might see. When the door opened, Christine was surprised. It wasn't what she had expected. The room was brightly lit and clean. Meg was sitting at a vanity, brushing her golden hair. While she still wore black, her face was glowing with pride and bravery. She had taken her mother's death better than Christine had originally thought.

"Hello, Meg," Christine whispered.

Meg turned and smiled when she saw Christine. "Hello there; it's good to see you again, Christine." She stood and came to where Christine was standing. Throwing her arms around her she said, "You're so thin, so pale. Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine, Meg, I promise," Christine lied. "I just came by to visit and see how you were doing. You look so much happier than when I last saw you."

With a sigh, Meg pushed back and looked at Christine with distant eyes. "It's not the same here without her. The new choreographer for the ballerinas…she's so distant, like she doesn't really care either way if we look any good…"

"That's horrible," Christine responded. "I had hoped the managers would put you at the head of the ballerina's choreography. You would be so good at it."

Meg shrugged. "Perhaps… What about you, Christine? Are you going to come back to sing for the opera house?"

Christine felt tears begin to well up. She shook her head, trying to clear her blurring vision. She pulled Erik's cape tighter around her shoulders. "I can't, Meg. It's impossible."

"Oh, don't cry, Christine, please don't!" Meg cried, taking Christine's hands in hers. "Tell me what's wrong, please."

As Meg led Christine to her bed and sat her down, Christine began to tell Meg the whole story. She told her closest friend everything that had happened since she had replaced Carlotta at the gala all that time ago. She told Meg about Erik, and her feelings for him. She told Meg about Raoul, and the way he had treated her. She told Meg about Erik's execution, and how it had killed her in more ways than the human mind could imagine. Christine told Meg everything that had been weighing her down since she had become Opera Populaire's lead Soprano.

And Meg listened. She listened patiently to everything Christine told her, and by the end, they were crying together. "I'm sorry, Christine," Meg whispered. "I never knew."

"No one besides your mother knew the whole story. She was with us through all of it. I need her, Meg. And I don't have her anymore." Christine pulled Erik's mask out and looked at it longingly. "I loved him, Meg… I loved him so much, and they took him from me."

Meg's eyes widened when she saw the mask, but she didn't mention it. "I'm so sorry, Christine. I'm so, so very sorry."

Shaking her head, Christine looked at her friend again. Maybe she wasn't alone in this. Maybe she didn't have to go through with her final plan. With Meg at her side, she could survive this. But as she looked at her closest friend, she realized that she couldn't do this to her. Meg had her own life, her own problems. Christine couldn't toss everything on Meg and hope everything would be alright. With a small smile, Christine climbed to her feet.

"I'd better go," she said. "Thank you for listening, Meg."

"Of course," Meg nodded with a smile. "If you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

"Good-bye," Christine whispered.

Leaving, the room, Christine gripped Erik's mask tighter. Taking a deep breath to resolve herself, she turned toward the staircase and started towards the roof.


	24. One Final Plan

**24. One Final Plan**

She hadn't realized how much time she had spent inside the opera house until she got outside. The sun had set, and the full moon was rising, shining defiantly against the dark. Christine supposed that she had gone to the opera house around four, but it was still springtime. It didn't get dark early now like it did in the winter. Could she really have stayed that long? She shook her head. It didn't matter. Time wouldn't affect what she planned to do.

The lights placed around the roof flooded it with artificial light that cast long shadows. The large, Pegasus statues stood tall and proud, guarding the roof of Opera Populaire. From what, no one seemed to know. They only ever said that they stood guard. As Christine crossed to the edge of the roof, she remembered the last time she had been up here.

It was after Erik had killed Joseph Buquet; Madame Giry had sent her up to the rooftop to hide until most of the excitement and fear died down a little inside. Christine hadn't been up there for even ten minutes when Raoul had found her and tried to force her to tell him about Erik and where he was hiding. He was getting violent, and Christine had seen that he wanted nothing more than to hit her into submission. And he might have, if Erik hadn't shown up when he did. Erik had saved her then, but he wasn't here anymore. He couldn't protect her any longer.

Shaking despite how warm it was, Christine pulled herself onto the ledge and looked down at the street below her. She placed her free hand on a nearby Pegasus statue to help steady herself. At the same time, she pulled Erik's mask out into view. _Am I really going to go through with this? _ She asked herself, looking at the mask. _What else am I to do? There's no one left for me…_

She decided that she was going to do this only days after Madame Giry's funeral. With her death, Christine had come to the horrible realization that there was no one left on this Earth who loved her, no one left who could help her get through her depression.

Madame Giry had been her mother. She had raised Christine, not only to be a "strong", independent young woman, but also as a talented ballerina, and, in a sense, the most popular lead Soprano Opera Populaire had seen in decades. Madame Giry had loved Christine unconditionally and would have done anything for her.

Erik had been the love of her life, the only man she had ever felt so strongly for. He had been her angel, her tutor, her protector, and later on in life, her greatest love. He would have gone to the ends of the Earth if he could only make Christine happy.

Now, both of them were gone, and her only friend, Meg, was struggling with her own problems. Christine refused to be a burden on her any more, so the only option left open to her was to rejoin the two that loved her more than anything else.

Resigned to her fate and ready to meet with her adopted mother and dearly beloved once again, Christine prepared to step off the roof. Before she could move, however, the roof access door flew open and she heard Raoul call her name. _No!_ Christine thought in despair. How_ did he find me?_

"Christine, what are you doing?" he yelled at her. "Are you insane? Get down from there!"

Without turning to face him Christine called back, "Why should I, Raoul? What's the point anymore?"

"I have no idea what you think you're doing, but if you don't come down from there right now…"

"What? What will you do to me? What else can you _possibly _do to me?" Slowly, Christine turned to face him. She felt tears begin to fall down her face. "You've taken everything from me, Raoul. Everything I loved, everything I held dear. There is absolutely _nothing _you can do to me anymore."

Raoul looked at her, a helpless expression on his face. "I know you're hurting," he said, reaching a hand out to her, "But you…you can't do this, Christine. You can't…"

Christine shook her head and said, "I can, Raoul. I have to." She turned back to the street. Hearing Raoul starting towards her she said, "If you come anywhere near me, I swear I'll jump."

"What's the difference?!" he called back to her. "You're obviously going to jump anyway. Please, can we just…talk about this?"

"How did you find me?" she hissed, trying to changed the subject from what she was trying to do.

"It wasn't hard to work out. Mitchell told me you went out, and I figured there's only one place you could go. I talked to some of the servants that work here and they said they saw you come up to the roof… Christine, you can't seriously be considering suicide?"

Taking a deep breath, Christine chose her next words carefully. "There's no one left, Raoul," she said slowly. "First Erik, then Madame Giry…"

"You haven't lost everyone, Christine. What about Meg?"

"Have you seen here? She's putting on a a mask so no one can see how badly she's hurting. I can't do this to her. She just lost her mother. How could I just…throw my problems onto her and leave her to drown under them?"

"That makes no sense, Christine! She's your friend! She loves you. Meg wouldn't mind bearing the weight of your problems if it would help you."

"I'm not going to let her suffer under my problems as well as hers."

"Well…what about me?" Raoul asked, his voice breaking.

Despite her fear over what she planned to do, despite the fact she was crying and felt as if she were slowly dying, Christine laughed. "You?" she asked. "_You _care about _me_? Not a chance."

"But I do, Christine. I do care about you. I…I _love _you."

"No…you…don't!" Christine shouted, rounding back on Raoul. She stumbled, nearly falling backwards onto the street, but she grabbed onto the statue and steadied herself again. Raoul took a few steps forward, ready to catch her if she slipped. "Stay _away _from me, Raoul!" she hissed, her eyes flaring angrily and tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't want him anywhere near her. "You say you love me, but you don't! You never have!"

"I do, Christine. I have for years. That's why I did what I did the night _Don Juan _opened."

She was losing her temper with him. "No, you didn't do that for me, you did that for you. Because you refused to let me go! Because you refused to come to grips with the fact that I _straight up _told you that I don't love you, and that you don't love me!"

"Christine, I _do _love you!"

"STOP SAYING THAT!" she screamed, slamming her hand against the statue. "If you really loved me, you would have let me go! You would have let me go with Erik! You would have let me be with the man I loved! But you couldn't let me go! The only way you could have me was if you had him killed! And now he's dead, Raoul! The only man I've ever loved, and he's dead! And even though he's dead, you _still _can't have me! Because I still don't love you, and I _never will_!"

Turning back to the street she took a small step forward. "Please, Little Lottie, don't do this!" Raoul pleaded. She could hear the tears in his voice. She took a deep breath, strengthening her resolve and moved a tiny bit closer to the edge of the roof. Raoul called out one last time: "CHRISTINE!"

Christine stopped. She had heard her name, but it hadn't come from Raoul. It had been whispered on the wind. It had been called quietly, lovingly. There was only one person it could have been…but that was impossible. He was gone. He had died one month ago. They had executed him…

Then, as quietly as her name had come, a song flowed on the wind to her. It was a song she had heard only one time before, but it was a song she knew better than her own name. It was _their _song.

_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Say the word and I will follow you_

Fighting tears, Christine entered on the next verse, like she had all those weeks ago in the jailhouse. Their voices blended together just like they had that last day she had seen them.

_Share each day with me, each night, each morning._

She stopped, but his voice continued, growing in strength, coming closer.

_Say you love me…_

Christine responded the same way she had before.

_You know I do._

Slowly, she began to turn, hardly daring to believe it. _He's dead... _she told herself. _It can't be him._

_Love me…_

Her back was to the street now. She was looking on the roof, and her heart soared. She couldn't believe it. It couldn't be…

_That's all I ask of you_.

Standing in front of Raoul, only a few paces behind her, dressed all in black, one shadow among many, was Erik.


	25. Reunion

**25. Reunion**

It was impossible. Perhaps she had already jumped, and he was here to take her away forever to be with him and Madame Giry and her father. Perhaps she had fallen asleep, and was dreaming that he had returned to her. There were a dozen possibilities running through her mind; every possible way he could be standing before her right now, except for the one that couldn't possibly be true. Erik had been executed. She was holding his mask in her hand as proof. He would never have given it up, never have left it behind, unless he had been killed.

Breathless, Christine stepped off the ledge and started towards him. She was faintly aware that Raoul was standing a few feet behind Erik, eyeing him with pure hatred. Other than him being a faint blip on the radar, his presence was hardly noticeable to her. In a daze, Christine stopped in front of Erik, who had stood silently as she tried to work out what was standing in front of her.

He was wearing the same mask Piangi had worn for _Don Juan_, a black mask that covered both sides of his face. Since it was wider than it was long, it didn't cover all of the horrible scar on the right side of his face. A bit of the marred flesh was still visible. Slowly, Christine reached her free hand up and felt the part of the scar that was visible. It felt like it had the first time he had shown it to her, so long ago. There was no way this could be a pretender. Her eyes didn't leave his face for one moment.

"It can't be you," she said, feeling a fresh wave of tears wash down her face. "It can't be." Erik took her hand from his face and held it in both of his gloved hands. He didn't respond, only looked at her with such love and such worry, it made her heart sing. "I thought you were dead."

Erik smiled at her. "And what made you think that?"

Hearing him speak to her was too much. His white mask slipped from her grasp and she collapsed against him, breaking into wrenching sobs. He wrapped his arms around her as they sank to the ground. She could only repeat one sentence: "I thought you were dead."

She was aware of him whispering to her, but she had no idea what he was saying. Christine couldn't hear anything over her own cries. Erik held her tighter and petted her hair. She clung to the front of his shirt, listening to his heartbeat; a sound she thought she'd never hear again. Christine had no idea how long they stayed that way, but she eventually regained control over herself.

"I'm sorry, Christine. I wanted nothing more than to come get you. But I couldn't…"

"Why not?" she whimpered, drying her eyes.

"I wasn't strong enough. After everything that they did… I didn't have to strength to stage a rescue. But today, when I learned you were coming, I planned to take you back."

"But how…how did you get away? How could you escape?"

"Madame Giry," he said simply.

In spite of everything that had happened in the past few moments, Christine found herself laughing at the irony. Madame Giry had saved Erik once again from the punishment of execution for the crime of murder. She had always been watching out for him, even in her sick state with death fast approaching.

"Little Lottie," Raoul's voice called to her breaking her out of her happiness, "get away from him."

Christine stiffened and reluctantly pushed away from Erik, climbing to her feet and turning on him. "You," she hissed. "You monster! You let me believe he was dead!" She crossed the distance between them and when she had stopped in front of him, she slapped him. "You let me believe he was dead!"

Holding his stinging cheek, Raoul look at her with wide, terrified eyes. "I only did what was best for you."

"No! You only did what was best for _you! _You've never loved me! You've never cared about me! Never! All you want is another prize to conquer, and I'm your latest attempt!"

"Little Lottie…" he whispered, hurt. "Please…"

"I'm done with you," Christine hissed, shaking her head. "I've given you chance after chance! But this... I can never forgive you for this! I never want to see you again. _Ever_."

She turned her back on him and nearly collapsed with relief when she saw Erik was still standing behind her. She could still hardly believe that he was here, still alive. Christine smiled when she saw that he had changed back into his white mask while her back had been to him. He was back to the way he had been; he was _her _Erik. Going as quickly as she could without running, she crossed back to Erik. He held a gloved hand out to her and she gratefully took it. Erik wrapped his arm around her shoulder and started leading her towards the door back into the opera house.

"Christine, you can't seriously go with him! He's dangerous, a murderer!" Raoul hissed behind her. He was making a final, feeble attempt at trying to keep her with him. "Besides," he fumbled for words, "he's a wanted man! And he's easily recognizable to everyone in Paris. What kind of life can he offer you?"

The pair stopped, and Christine looked up at Erik. His eyes were closed and his head was bowed. There was a part of him that knew Raoul was right, and there was a part of Christine that knew he was right, too. Erik was wanted for murder, and now for evading his punishment. He couldn't offer her much of a life in Paris. Erik opened his eyes and looked at her with a pained expression.

Raoul knew he had struck a cord, so he kept going. "Yeah, he can't offer you anything. You can't go with him."

Christine looked at Erik sadly before turning back to face Raoul. Erik stepped back to give her room. Gazing at him with a cold stare Christine hissed, "Just try and stop me." With that, she took Erik's arm and they started back towards the door.

When the roof door closed behind them and they were on their way back to Erik's lair, he told her, "Raoul may be twisted and vile, but he has a point. What can I offer you now that I'm wanted for murder?"

"You can offer me the only thing I want," Christine responded sharply. "Love; that's all I've ever wanted since I thought you'd…since thought I'd lost you. Especially after Madame Giry...died and I thought I was alone… All I've wanted is love. And not just anyone's love… I want you."

"You're willing to give up your life to be with me?" he asked, looking down at her.

Without responding, Christine stopped and turned so she and Erik were facing each other. Reaching up, she pulled his head down so she could reach his lips and kissed him. She thought she'd understood how badly she had wanted him, how badly she had missed him, but now that she had him again, now that she could kiss him again, Christine realized that she had no idea how alone she had felt.

They reluctantly pulled apart and Christine whispered, "Yes, I am _more _than willing."

There was no more conversation as they walked down to his lair. Erik took her back the way he had brought her when he had first took her to his home. When they reached the lake, he tried to have her sit in the boat, but she didn't want to let go of him. She stood beside him, her arms wrapped around him, as he rowed the boat back to his home.

Finally, they had reached his lair and they were alone. At first, there was a moment where neither of them spoke; they only watched each other lovingly. Then, Erik broke the silence and said, "You still have that cape?"

"I take it everywhere I go," Christine told him, wrapping it around her shoulders. "While you were…imprisoned…it was all I had of you."

"But you have this, too," he said, pointing to the mask.

"Not at first…" Christine said, going to sit at Erik's writing desk. He followed her and knelt in front of her, placing his hands on her lap. "When I came home after visiting you, Raoul was furious. He had no idea where I'd gone, but he knew I'd gone alone, against his…orders. He…locked me in my room until I told him where I'd gone, but I never did. I spent a week alone in my room, with no information of the outside world and unable to leave." Seeing Erik's eyes flare with anger, Christine quickly said, "He didn't…starve me or anything, just…didn't let me leave… Anyway, a few days after that, Raoul came with a gift…It was that." She pointed to the mask. "He told me you'd been executed. I guess I'd just assumed that...that made the most sense as to how he had it… That was the only mask you had on you. You wouldn't go anywhere without it… The only way they'd be able to get it from you is if they killed you."

She covered her mouth as more tears filled her eyes. "I really thought you were dead, Erik. I thought I'd lost you forever."

Erik took Christine in his arms and whispered, "I could never die and leave you behind, my angel."

Christine threw her arms around his neck and held him close to her, afraid if she let go he'd disappear. "I love you, Erik."

"I love you, Christine," he whispered.

Sighing, she let herself slump against him; she hadn't realized how exhausted she was until now. Erik shifted position and lifted her into his arms. He carried her towards the bed. As they crossed the room, they kissed again. Erik laid her down and whispered, "Sleep, Christine. Tomorrow, we'll plan our future."

Before he could move away, Christine grabbed Erik's arm and pulled him towards her. "Stay with me Erik."

He looked down at her lovingly and nodded. "I'll be with you for as long as you want me."

Lying down next to her under the covers, he wrapped his arms around her. She rolled into him and buried her face in his chest. "I want you Erik."

He brushed her hair back. "I'm here, Christine."

"No; I _want _you."

Erik was silent for a moment before saying, "We can't, Christine."

"Why not? I've spent weeks thinking you were dead… I want you, Erik, no one else. I want you…"

She kissed him again, and when she pulled away he whispered, "If that is what you wish."


	26. Repercussions

**26. Repercussions**

Christine woke up the next morning happier than she had been in months. She could hardly believe that just the night before she had been considering killing herself. Now, she was waking up in the arms of the man she loved more than anything, and everything seemed to be right with the world. Sighing, she turned to look over at Erik. He was still sleep, breathing steadily, looking more peaceful than she had ever seen him. That was a marvelous thing about people who were sleeping; it returned them to a state where nothing could hurt them, and they were perfectly calm.

Not wanting to disturb him, Christine gently slid out of bed and quietly got dressed. Smiling, she headed back into the main room of the lair, wondering if Erik kept food down here somewhere. He had to eat something after all. When she didn't have any luck, she decided it would be best to just wait for him to wake up and show her where he kept everything. She was still reluctant to wake him, so she tried to find something to do to pass the time.

She stopped in front of one of the mirrors and pulled off the curtain that covered it, letting it fall to the ground. Studying her reflection, she ran a hand through her hair, trying as best she could to untangle it. Last night, she had been so happy to be with Erik again, she hadn't thought of what she was going to do this morning. She hadn't brought a change of clothes, a brush, or anything with her. Just what she had been wearing when he came to her on the rooftop.

Looking back, she realized she hadn't thought anything through, but the one problem that was facing her now wasn't an item she had left back in her room at Raoul's mansion, it was a person who was going to do anything in his power to take her back. The look on Raoul's face when Erik had come to her could only be described as pure hatred, and it was about to overflow. Even though she was with Erik once again, Raoul wouldn't have any problem coming down and trying to steal her back. In fact, she knew for certain that he would be here for her, and soon. And if he killed Erik in the process of getting her back…well, that was just another plus for him, wasn't it?

Now that she had let her mind wander to the possibilities of what Raoul would do when he found them – because now it was a matter of when, not if – she began to feel trapped. When he got down to them, they would be most definitely be trapped. They wouldn't be able to get away quickly. Raoul was perceptive; he would find the hidden passage behind the mirror, then he would find the lake. And once he found the lake, he would find the path that wound around it and led straight into the heart of the lair. When Raoul arrived, he would block the easy way out, leaving only one way out: through the river. And there was no way they were making it out that way with Raoul right behind them.

Christine had gone past being worried; she was terrified now. Even though she still wanted to let Erik rest, she needed him to tell her everything would be alright, that he had another way out for when Raoul arrived. Looking at her reflection one last time, she was going to turn around when she felt the tip of the blade at the base of her neck.

"I've been looking for you everywhere, Little Lottie. I've been so worried."

Swallowing, Christine looked to the far right corner of the mirror. Just barely reflected there was Raoul, standing behind her; he had a sword placed at her neck, ready for a killing strike. "How did you find us?" she whispered, staring horrified at the sword.

"It wasn't all that hard. I found the tunnel behind the mirror in the lead Soprano dressing room. I followed it, found the lake, found the path _around _the lake, followed that, and now, here I am." He had gotten down her exactly as Christine had thought. The only thing was, he had done it a lot faster than she had expected. "The Phantom's lair, the hiding place. This is where he's been living for the past…forever? It's a bit dark…" Raoul said with a shrug.

"Why can't you just leave me alone, Raoul? How could you want to stay with someone who doesn't love you?"

"I honestly don't care if you love me or not. I want you, and I get what I want, so I will get you. Today in fact. Come, Little Lottie, we're leaving."

"I'd rather die than be with you," Christine hissed.

"That can be arranged, I promise you." Raoul pressed the knife into her skin, cutting it slightly. Christine watched the red line trace its way down her neck. "I'd prefer to have you alive, but if I need to kill you, I will." Christine's eyes darted back to the room where Erik was still resting peaceful, unaware of the danger that had come into his home. She wanted to scream, to warn him. "Don't even think about it, Christine," Raoul warned her, guessing what she was hoping to do. "I will kill you before you can make a sound."

She wanted so desperately to cry out for Erik, her angel, her guardian, but she knew that if she tried, Raoul would make good on his threat. Christine wasn't a girl he loved; she was no longer a girl he wanted. He only wanted to take her away from Erik, and if that meant killing her, than he would kill her. _Please wake up, Erik. _ She pleaded silently. _Please help me._

"How are we going to do this?" he asked through his teeth. "Will you come with me peacefully, or do I have to kill you?"

Christine flashed a look at the mirror again and saw Erik had waken up and come into the room, fully dressed with a sword in his hand. He was trying to cross from the bedroom over to them, quietly, unseen, and that knowledge was the only thing keeping Christine from crying out in relief. She only hoped Raoul couldn't see the reflection from how they were positioned. She had to keep him talking, just long enough for Erik to come to her rescue.

Just being able to see Erik coming made her braver. In response, she decided to stand her ground. "You really can't take it, can you? The poor Viscount de Chagny who got everything he wanted just by asking suddenly has to fight for the love of a woman, a love he can never have. How does that feel, Raoul, to not be able to have something?" Christine taunted.

"Do you think I'm joking, Christine? I'm at the point where I no longer care what happens to you, so long as that killer doesn't have you. If that means killing you, than I will kill you."

"That would make you no better than Erik wouldn't it?" she asked, watching Erik in the mirror move closer with every word she and Raoul spoke. "That would make you a killer, too."

"The difference being that I'm _saving _you from a terrible fate."

Erik was within striking distance, so Christine prepared to move. "The only terrible fate I can see, Raoul, is having to spend an eternity with you." As Erik raised his arm to strike, Christine fell to the ground and rolled out of the way.

At the last moment, Raoul noticed Erik's reflection in the mirror and was able to dodge is strike. The power beneath Erik's attack caused the mirror to shatter. Christine covered her head so the shattering glass wouldn't cut her face. She looked up once the glass settled to see Erik and Raoul trading blows. Raoul was on the defensive; Erik was striking relentlessly down at him, pushing him back towards the river, getting him away from Christine. Raoul was just barely parrying Erik's strikes, and his recoveries were getting slower as Erik continued to attack. Erik didn't even look tired; he wasn't even breaking a sweat. Raoul looked like nothing more than a child's toy to him.

Christine watched breathless as Raoul stepped into the river. He glanced quickly over his shoulder to see how much longer he had before he lost his footing in deep water, but he didn't lose a step. Without missing a count, he was able to continue parrying. Raoul was beginning to look worried; he was losing this fight, and he had done the one thing they all knew Erik could never forgive: he had threatened Christine's life.

Just when she thought Erik had victory, Raoul did something neither of them expected; he dived into the lake, disappearing beneath the black, glossy surface. Erik watched warily where he had disappeared, and after a few moments, he nodded, satisfied Raoul had fled. He sheathed his sword and turned back to Christine. She saw the water beginning to stir, but she didn't realize what was happening until she saw Raoul's head break the surface.

"ERIK!" she screamed.

He whipped around as Raoul brought his sword down. Erik only had time to raise his arm to deflect the blow. He cried out in pain as the sword went right through his shirt, skin, and muscle. Christine's hands shot to her mouth as she watched in fear. Erik was on the ground, holding his wounded arm, trying to crawl away from Raoul who was standing triumphantly over him.

"This time, I'll make sure you really die." Raoul raised his sword.

Without thinking, Christine ran towards where Erik was lying defenseless. She had to stop Raoul; she couldn't lose Erik again, not after she had just gotten him back. Neither of them had seen her coming until she was already at Erik's side, drawing his sword from his scabbard and holding it above them. Raoul's sword clashed with the one Christine was holding, and the sound seemed to echo on for ages around the large cave.

Raoul stood over her, his sword at his side, panting. "Get out of the way, Christine."

Shaking her head Christine kept the sword in a defensive position over her and Erik. "If you want to kill him, you'll have to kill me, too." She didn't know how valid of a threat that would be; Raoul had been willing to kill her only moments before. Still, he seemed to waver as she said it. Was he really unable to kill her now that he was facing her? "What's the matter, Viscount? You were so willing to kill me earlier, but now you can't? Now that I have a sword, now that you have to look me in the eye, you find yourself unable to kill me?"

"I could disarm you easily," he hissed. "Your form, your grip, it's all wrong."

"Then _do it_!" she screamed at him. "All you do is talk, but you never act! You're a coward! If you really want to kill me, than kill me!"

She felt Erik stiffen beneath her, but she didn't let it distract her. Christine had to stay focused on the man in front of her. If she seemed to waver for even a moment, he would definitely kill them both. Raoul remained silent, still gripping his sword tightly. He lifted the sword and his gaze darkened. _This is it. _Christine thought. _Now I die._

But he didn't strike her. Instead, he put the sword back in its scabbard and started back towards the entrance he had used. She followed his progress and held her breath as he turned to look at her with the same, hate-filled glare he had given Erik the night before. "This isn't over, _Little Lottie_." He spat the name like a curse. Rounding on his heel, he stormed out of the lair.

Taking a deep breath, Christine dropped the sword and turned to Erik. He was paler than usual, and his arm was bleeding badly. "You shouldn't have done that, Christine," he whispered faintly.

"I'd already lost you once, Erik. I wasn't going to lose you again." Quickly, she let him wrap an arm around her shoulders. She wrapped her own arm under his and helped him up, leading him over to the bedroom. Gently, she placed him on the bed and asked, "Where's all you medical supplies?"

"The bathroom," he hissed, gritting his teeth.

Nodding, Christine raced from the room and started looking for the bathroom. When she finally found it, she didn't stop to look around. She grabbed a box that held everything she needed to close the wound. Before leaving, Christine grabbed a handful of towels, then went as quickly as she could back to the bedroom.

Erik was paler than when she had left him, and sweat had broken out on his forehead. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was shallow. Christine put everything on a table next to the bed and knelt beside Erik, ripping the sleeve to reveal the cut. Glaring up at him, Christine ordered, "You are _not _dying on me. I won't let you."

"I'll try not to disappoint," he grimaced.

_He's still conscious, at least. _She thought. _That's a good sign._

The wound was still bleeding. Before she could do anything else, she had to get the bleeding to stop. She took one of the towels and pressed it against the wound. Erik cried out in pain and Christine closed her eyes, fighting tears. She had to have clear vision if she was going to do this. After a few moments and several towels, the blood had stopped flowing. Christine moved the last towel away and looked down at how bad it was.

Raoul's sword had been kept sharp; it had sliced right through his skin and muscle, but it hadn't revealed bone, which Christine was grateful for. Madame Giry had taught her how to sew closed a wound that went deep, but not bone-deep. Christine pulled the box of supplies closer to her and dug through it, looking for something that could numb the pain. The only thing he had was whiskey, so she poured that on the open wound. Erik cried out when the alcoholic liquid hit the cut.

She bit the inside of her lip, trying not to cry out with him. Christine hated to think she was hurting him, but she knew it would help him in the long run. After some time, Christine grabbed the needle and string. She wove the needle and told Erik, "I'm going to close it up, alright? Hopefully the whiskey will help keep the pain down, but I can't make any promises."

Nodding, Erik braced himself. Christine studied the cut before placing the needle on his skin. She had done this before, but this was the first time she had done it to someone she cared about. She hoped she could handle hurting Erik in order to help him. Carefully, she pushed the needle through the skin and started to sew it closed.

"We can't stay here," Erik said. His voice was barely a whisper, and Christine could tell he was fighting against tears. "Raoul knows where we are, and he will come back. We have to leave."

"We will," Christine promised without looking away from what she was doing. "We'll leave as soon as you're arm heals."

"No, we have to go right away. Raoul won't wait very long before he tries something else, especially if he knows that I'm not exactly able to protect you…" Erik's voice trailed off. "Although, maybe you don't need protection…"

"Maybe not," she agreed.

"He could have killed you, Christine."

"If he had killed you, I would've died anyway. You don't know what it was like, Erik, the weeks when I thought you had been executed… I was going to kill myself because of how alone I felt. I hated living without you, being in a world where you weren't…" she shook her head. "There is no life for me without you."

Erik turned to look at her as she spoke. "Don't ever do something like what you did last night again, Christine. Something might happen where I can't get there in time… If I lost you…"

Christine stopped working for a moment as what he said sank in. Erik loved her as much as she loved him. If she had succeeded in her attempt last night, what would have happened to him? Would he have gone on? Would he have tried to kill himself? Shaking her head, she turned back to her work.

Once the wound was closed, Christine grabbed the bandages and wrapped it around his arm. She pinned the bandage in place, then sat back with a sigh. "It's done," she said.

"Thank you, Christine," he whispered.

She kissed his forehead, then collected her supplies. "Sleep, Erik. We'll talk a while later."

Christine turned and went to the bathroom to clean herself and the tools she had used. As she started cleaning, she thought back on what had happened. Her choices last night had led to Erik getting seriously injured and both of them almost killed. Perhaps that was another thing she hadn't considered when she had come down here with Erik. She hadn't considered the affects her choices would have on not just her, but everyone around her.


	27. Going Away

**27. Going Away**

The next several hours of what had started as the best day of Christine's life were now spent in tearful agony. She had been able to close Erik's wound, but it had been a deep cut. Infection could start, and if it did, there was absolutely nothing she could do for him. If an infection did start, she would have to take him to a doctor, and if she took Erik in public… She prayed for his health, and that the wound wouldn't get infected.

She sat at Erik's writing desk, looking down at some of the things he had been working on. Through the tears, she could only see bits and pieces of the music before her. The first thing she noticed was sheet music titled All I Ask of You. She studied the music and smiled when she recognized the lyrics; it was the song she and Erik had sung first at the jailhouse, then on the roof the night before. Their song would one day be put in an opera, she knew. That was the only reason Erik would write it down on sheet music. Some of the other things she saw looked beautiful, but she couldn't sing it. She didn't know what the notes sounded like without a piano to guide her, and she couldn't play the piano herself. Maybe one day, when she and Erik were safe and away from Paris, he could teach her how to play.

Several hours after she had closed Erik's wound, he came back into the main room. Christine was instantly struck by a strange irony; the first time she had come down here, it had been Erik sitting at the writing desk and her coming from the bedroom. Now, the roles were reversed. She only hoped that today would go better than that day had.

She watched him approach, trying to tell if anything was off. He seemed to walk at the same pace and he didn't stagger or wobble. That was a good sign, she told herself. But how would she actually know? Madame Giry had taught her quite a bit about healing, but Christine was no doctor. There was no way she'd know if something was wrong until she could actually see it, and his approach wasn't going to tell too her much.

Erik came and knelt in front of her like he had the night before. "Are you doing alright?" he asked.

Christine laughed. "Am _I _alright? You're the one who got cut."

"That's true," Erik nodded, "but you're the one that had to close it."

Burying her face in her hands, Christine rubbed her eyes. "What are we going to do, Erik? We're not out of the woods yet. Raoul will be back sooner rather than later… That cut might still get infected, and if it does there's nothing I can do… If we want to go somewhere we need money, and I don't have anything… I just… I don't know what we can do…"

Erik took her hands and looked her in the eye. "Christine, I don't care what happens to us after today as long as we're together. I don't need money, I don't need a big house, I just need you. As long as I have you, I can do anything; I can survive anything. Even this." He gestured to the cut on his arm.

With a small smile, Christine rested her head against Erik's forehead. _He doesn't feel any warmer than usual… Looks like there's no fever… That's good. _"I know that, but without money we won't get very far… And we need to get as far from Paris as possible."

"We'll work it out," Erik reassured her. "Everything will be fine, Christine, I promise."

Taking a deep breath, Christine pulled back and looked at Erik longingly. Everything she wanted for the past year was sitting in front of her. Her dreams were slowly coming true. All they had to do now was run. She would do _anything_, go _anywhere_, be_ anyone_ if only she could spend the rest of her life with him. Nodding, Christine started thinking of different things they would need.

"Other than money we're going to need food…clothes…medical supplies…" Christine thought aloud.

"I have food and medical supplies here, but only clothes for me," Erik said.

"Back in the lead Soprano dressing room…the one with the mirror. I have clothes there that I can change into."

"Alright," Erik said. "You're not going up there alone, though. Not after what's happened. Wait a few moments here, then we'll go up together."

Christine nodded. She had no wish to go anywhere without Erik standing beside her. He went back to her he had fought Raoul by the lakeside and picked up the sword he had been using. Studying it to make sure the water hadn't damaged it, he carried it back over to a room Christine hadn't been in before. _It must be his room... __He must be changing. _She thought. It made sense. The shirt he was wearing now was torn and bloody.

A short while after, he returned. He had changed, and the shirt he was wearing now was the same he always wore; black and long-sleeved. The white mask that covered the scar on his face was still in place, but then, it always was. He crossed back over to her and held his arm out to her. Smiling, Christine locked arms with Erik and the pair headed up the tunnels to the dressing room together.

"I'll need to grab a bag, then I can get some clothes… After that, we'll need to get as far from Opera Populaire as possible…" Christine told Erik as they walked. "I wish I could talk to Meg one more time…" she whispered.

"Perhaps we can find time to see her before you leave. I know how close the two of you are," Erik offered.

"She knows about us… About my feelings for you. I told her everything yesterday. I think she's slightly freaked out by the fact I'm in love with a convicted murderer, but she loves me like a sister. She wouldn't turn either of us in. To anyone," Christine explained.

"I know Meg as well as I knew her mother. I've been with her since she started training, much like I have been with you," Erik responded. "She's a good girl and a strong woman. And she does love you, more than you know. She wouldn't do anything to hurt you."

Christine smiled, resting her head against Erik's shoulder, reassured by his presence. She couldn't believe that she thought he'd been dead only a few hours before.

"How's your arm? Is it alright?" she asked.

"It still stings, but I think that's natural. It was sliced open and sewn back together, stinging is to be expected," Erik smiled down at her.

Christine nodded. "If it gets worse or you start feeling ill, let me know. We'll need to investigate doctors if that happens… It could be the sign of infection."

"I understand." Despite giving his assent, Erik was unable to mask the worry in his voice of needing a stranger's help.

They'd soon reached the dressing room. Erik slid the mirror open and went in first, making sure no one else was there. Once he was sure they were alone, he signaled to Christine had she entered the room. As quick as she could, Christine ran to her bed and pulled out a large bag. Then, she went to the wardrobe and pulled out as many dresses as she could. Not many were left after Madame Giry sent a crate to Raoul's home, but she made do. She grabbed the leftover winter and summer dresses, not sure what type she would need most. Once she had the dresses, she grabbed underclothing; enough to last her for a while, even if they couldn't get to a place where she could wash them. Once she had clothes, she grabbed a brush for her hair and a toothbrush and toothpaste. With the large bag packed, she went back to Erik who was still standing by the mirror.

Christine watched Erik closely. He was holding something in his hands, but she couldn't see what it was. "What have you got there?"

"I suppose you never saw it…" he smiled. Turning, Erik showed her that he was holding a rose. It would have once been a brilliant red, but was now dying and turned black. The stem would have once been emerald green, but was also dying and had turned brown. A thin, black, silk ribbon was wound around the stem.

"What is it?" Christine asked, taking the flower from him.

"The night after your first gala, I snuck in here and gave this to you. But with all the other roses you had gotten that night, I suppose this single one got swallowed up. You never saw it."

"It must have been beautiful," she said, feeling the silk of the ribbon between her fingers. Christine smiled and untied the ribbon from the stem. "I might not be able to save the rose…" she said as she placed the string of fabric around her wrist, "but maybe I can save the ribbon."

Erik smiled back at her before helping her tie the ribbon around her wrist. "We'll find somewhere safer for it where it won't fall off once we've reached wherever it is we're going," Erik promised, squeezing her hand. "Now, let's see if we can't find Meg."

Arm-in-arm, Christine and Erik headed back into the tunnels. "Do you have a tunnel that goes to her room?" she asked.

"No, but there's a tunnel that lets out nearby her room. She was close to Madame Giry's office and I had a tunnel that went in there. We'll use that one."

Christine nodded and let him lead her through the long tunnels. They walked in silence, simply enjoying each other's presence. Christine treasured this moment with him: they weren't speaking, they weren't singing, they were simply together. When they reached Madame Giry's office, they quickly headed towards Meg's room. She waited for Erik to go in and do a sweep like he had before, but he didn't.

"I don't want to scare her," he explained. "Whether you have feelings for me or not, Meg is still afraid of the Phantom of the Opera. And whether I _like_ it or not, that's the name and reputation I have here. With everyone."

Nodding, Christine turned and kissed Erik. "I'll be back soon."

"I need to go back to the tunnels so I don't get risk getting found out. Can you find your own way back?"

"Of course I can," Christine promised.

With a smile, Christine turned and opened Meg's door, quietly sliding inside. "Meg?" she whispered.

"Christine, is that you?" Meg called to her. She was sitting at the vanity again, and jumped to her feet when she heard Christine call out. "Oh my gosh, I thought you were dead! They told me you jumped off the roof!"

Meg threw her arms around Christine, keeping her from responding for a few moments. When Meg finally let her go, Christine responded, "I was going to, but Erik…he's _alive _Meg, he's still alive. He saved me and we went down to his lair and last night…" a dream-like expression crossed her face. Meg's face darkened as what Christine meant sunk in.

"You didn't; not with him!"

"I did, Meg. I told you, I love him more than anything! He's the one I want to spend the rest of my life with…which is why I'm here."

"What do you mean?" Meg asked.

"We're leaving. Not just Opera Populaire, but Paris. Erik's life is in danger here. Not just from the police, but from Raoul as well."

"The Viscount de Chagny? But Christine, he loves you. He's told everyone he'll be marrying you soon." Meg's eyes widened.

"He came down to where Erik lives earlier today. He threatened to kill me if I didn't go with him, and he almost killed both Erik and I when I refused. He had a sword at my neck, Meg. Raoul is dangerous, and we need to get away. I have to go, Meg, and I won't be coming back."

"Is there nothing I can say?" she asked, her eyes shining with tears.

"I'm sorry," Christine shook her head. "My mind is made up."

Nodding, Meg went back to her vanity and pulled out a purse. "Then you'll need this."

"No, we couldn't."

"I'm not asking you to take it, I'm telling you to take it. You are my sister, Christine; maybe not by blood, but I don't much care about that. We grew up together, and you are my closest friend. I love you Christine, and I want to help you." Meg pulled out a small pile of money and handed it to Christine. "Forty-five francs. It's the best I can do."

"Thank you, sister," Christine said, hugging Meg. When she pulled back, she pocketed the money. There was no point in trying to not accept the money. Meg would put it in Christine's pocket herself if Christine didn't take it willingly. "I hope to see you again one day."

Meg smiled. "I'd like that. Bye, Christine."

Satisfied, Christine turned and left the room. She headed down the hall and back towards Madame Giry's office. Her head was in a whirl, and she wasn't paying attention. Perhaps if she had been more focused on her surroundings, she would have seen the plank of wood before it hit her in the back of the head, knocking her unconscious.


	28. Imagination

**28. Imagination**

When Christine regained consciousness, she wished nothing more than to go back to sleep and stay that way. The moment her eyes opened, she recognized where she was, and she knew exactly what had happened. He had known that she and Erik would make a run for it, and had waited for them to split up. Then, he attacked her and took her from the opera house, back to his mansion. Raoul had kidnapped her. And to make matters much worse: Erik had no idea where she was.

Christine was covered by a large silk quilt and was on the same featherbed she had had the last time she had been here. Looking around, she saw that she was in the same windowless room she'd had before. Her heart in her throat, she threw back the blanket and climbed out of the bed, charging at the door. She tried the handle, and wasn't at all surprised to find that it was locked. Raoul wasn't going to let her go again, not easily at least. If only this room had windows; she would crawl out of them and run back to the opera house; hopefully Erik would still be there, waiting for her. Or maybe he was looking for her right now.

As she watched the door, she heard the lock click back and saw the handle begin to turn. Quickly, she ran back to the bed and threw herself onto it. She wrapped herself in the quilt and closed her eyes. If Raoul would just believe that she was asleep, she could buy herself sometime to come up with a plan to escape and get back to Erik. Christine heard the door open and her breath caught in her throat.

Raoul's voice called from the doorway, "Are you awake, Little Lottie? You've been sleeping for a while, and I'm starting to get worried." Christine didn't move as she heard Raoul's footsteps approach. She felt the bed sag under his added weight as he sat down. She kept her eyes shut, and tried to keep from shuddering as he placed his hand on her forehead. "It's time to wake up, Christine. You can't sleep your life away."

_Just watch me. _Christine thought without letting her face betray any emotion. Raoul had to believe that she was still asleep, or there would be problems. _Give up and walk away, you monster._

She heard him sigh as he continued to talk. "You haven't been well since Madame Giry died… After you tried to jump off the roof, you've been having strange delusions…"

_What? What is he talking about?_

"Why don't you open your eyes and we can talk?"

She tried to tell herself she didn't care, she didn't want to know what he meant, but in the end, her curiosity won out. Christine opened her eyes and sat up slowly, watching Raoul carefully. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Raoul smiled, his eyes glimmering with relief. Confused, Christine waited for him to tell her what was happening. "Why don't you tell me everything you remember after you went up to the rooftop?" he prompted.

Raoul wanted her to talk first, so, at first, Christine didn't respond. _What is he playing at? _ She wondered. Finally she decided that if she wanted to story, she'd have to tell him her side of the story. "I was going to jump, then you came up and tried to stop me… But I was still going to do it… Then, Erik came and stopped me. He took me down to his liar and we were together… The next morning you came down and threatened to kill me if I didn't go with you… You fought Erik, and I stopped you from killing him… We're leaving today; we're going as far as we can. I said goodbye to Meg, and was going back to Erik when you hit me."

As Christine explained, Raoul shook his head, looking at her sadly. "No, Christine, that's not what happened."

"What do you mean that's not what happened? I remember _all _of that. How could it not have happened?"

"Christine, after Madame Giry died, you started going mad. Yes, you did attempt to kill yourself, but Erik wasn't the one that stop you from jumping. I did."

"No, you didn't! Erik…our song…"

"Please listen, Christine; you've been having...fits. Moments where past and present, reality and fiction, have been blurred together. I was able to pull you off the roof and get you back home, but I had to lock you in your room so you didn't try anything."

"This…this is wrong… Erik…"

"Is dead, Christine. Your grief has pushed you to insanity."

"You're wrong, Raoul, and once Erik finds out where I am, he'll come for me."

Raoul shook his head again. "No one is coming, Christine, especially not Erik. He was executed, remember?" Turning to the bedside table behind him, Raoul grabbed something and pulled it towards him. Turning again to face Christine, he held the object out to her. Christine's heart stopped.

Gingerly, she took the mask from his hand. It was Erik's mask…but that was impossible. He had taken it back from her after they'd gone down to his lair. He had been wearing it when Raoul had come to the lair and attacked them. There was no way Raoul could have it now. It was impossible. Staring up at Raoul with wide eyes, she found nothing in them but compassion.

Her mind raced to find an excuse, a reason, as to why Erik's mask was still here. To her horror, the only possible explanation was that Erik was still dead, and everything she had seen and done over the past few hours was fake.

"This can't be right…" she said, holding the mask to her chest. "I remember everything so vividly… How could it all have been my imagination?"

"When you're grieving, your mind takes you to strange places. It wants to make you happy again, so it shows you what it thinks you want. In this case, it thought you wanted to be back with Erik, so it took you back to him," Raoul explained, taking one of Christine's hands. "I'm sorry, Christine."

At that moment, she did the one thing she thought she would never do. She let herself collapse against Raoul and sought comfort in his presence. Sobbing into his chest, she wrapped her arms around him and held him to her. She had imagined all of it; Erik's return, the night the spent together, the morning she had saved him from Raoul, the time she spent sewing closed the wound Raoul had given him, going to the dressing room, finding the rose, saying goodbye to Meg…all of it had been fake. Her mind had created all of it, and she had believed it. She was still alone; Erik was still dead and she was still with Raoul.

"It'll be alright, Christine," Raoul whispered.

Despite everything that had happened between the two of them, Raoul was treating her so gently, so kindly. There was no malice or triumph in his voice like there had been when he had brought her Erik's mask the first time. He hadn't smiled when he saw her pain and confusion as she came to grips with the fact that Erik was still dead and that her happiness over the time she had had with him had been imagined. He was truly worried about her, and he felt horrible that it had happened to her. This was the Raoul she had known so long ago, the Raoul she had loved. He was coming back to her now, and she needed him desperately.

Christine slowly regained control over herself, and once the tears had stopped she pushed back from him and looked him in the eye. The cold fire she had gotten so used to seeing was gone, replaced with worry and adoration for her. He wasn't wearing a smile, but a frown of genuine concern. Perhaps, even though Raoul had been so horrible to her for so long, he had finally changed. And if he had changed, Christine was sure she could learn to love him.

"Raoul…?" she whispered.

"What is it, Little Lottie?"

"How long has it been since the rooftop?"

"Two days," he told her. "You've been stuck in that world for two days. I've had doctors and all types of professionals here trying to help you, to wake you up, but they weren't successful."

_That doesn't add up… It was only a night and a morning for me… Perhaps time moved slower there… _

"I was thinking, Christine; when you're better, we should go somewhere. I was thinking out to the country, away from the city. My family's country home hasn't been used in a while, but it should still be clean and ready for people to live in it. If you want to, we could just…get away for a while."

Slowly, Christine nodded. "I think I need to get away from the city for a while."

"Good," Raoul stood up and smiled gently down at her. "Why don't you get some more sleep, Christine?"

After having been asleep for so long, Christine would have imagined that she wouldn't have wanted to sleep any longer. But she soon found that she was exhausted; the moment her head hit the pillow, her eyes had shut and she was fast asleep once more.

* * *

><p>Christine was standing in a room with no lights. Blackness pressed down on her eyes like a sheet, and she couldn't see even a foot ahead of her. She turned in circles, trying to figure out where she was. With a chill, she realized she had the sensation that she was being watched. Squinting against the blackness, she tried to see who it was that was watching her. Then a voice called out to her, "You have to wake up, Christine."<p>

Something was wrong with that voice; it was familiar, but it was distorted and broken past all recognition. And it scared her. _It's a dream. _ She thought, trying to comfort herself. _It's just a dream._

"You have to wake up, Christine," the voice said again.

Over and over again, the voice whispered the sentence to her. As badly as she wanted to call out to the voice, to tell it to leave her alone, to ask who it was that was speaking to her, she found herself unable to speak. She couldn't respond to it; she couldn't even scream.

"You have to wake up, Christine," the voice became more insistent, and it seemed to be getting louder, closer. "You have to wake up, Christine!"

Spinning in faster circles, she tried to find where the source of the voice was. Suddenly, someone placed a hand on her shoulder. Whipping around, she found herself face to face with Madame Giry. "You have to wake up, Christine!"

Christine would've cried out if she could; she knew why the voice sounded so familiar, but it didn't belong to the woman standing in front of her. Whatever was saying it was wearing Madame Giry's face, but it was speaking with Erik's voice, though his voice was distorted and cracking with every word. Her eyes widening with fear, Christine tried to pull away, but Madame Giry held her tight. "You have to wake up, Christine!"

Finally, she found she had a voice. "_Why?!" _Christine screamed.

"You're both in danger…" the voice began to fade.

The room she was standing in brightened, and Christine's eyes shot open. She was still in her room in Raoul's house; she was safe.

_Or are you? _ A part of her whispered as she remembered what the Madame Giry in her dream had told her before it had faded: "You're both in danger." Obviously, the dream had been talking about her as one of the people that was in danger. So the question became: Who was the other person?


	29. The Country House Basement

**29. The Country House Basement**

A few days later, Christine, Raoul, and Mitchell found themselves at the de Chagny country home. They had left the city of Paris behind, only stopping once at Opera Populaire for Raoul to inform André and Firmin that he would be gone for two to three weeks on vacation with Christine. After Raoul had told them his plans, they had gone straight to the country home.

Christine had never seen such a peaceful place; the home was a three-story cabin, the top floor being bedrooms and the ground floor being a living room and kitchen. There was a bathroom on each floor. The bottom floor was a basement; storage for supplies. Raoul had asked Christine not to go down there; garden supplies and other dangerous equipment was down there, and he didn't want her getting hurt. On the backside of the house was a large backyard bordered by a forest. Meanwhile, the front of the house offered a view of a lake. It was a quiet place, one where Christine was able to forget the troubles that the city of Paris placed on her mind. She had no idea such a beautiful place existed only a few short hours outside of such a large, dangerous city.

Raoul and Christine spent their days together riding horses or down on the shore of the lake. They had picnics and stayed out late to look at the stars. One day. Raoul had Mitchell bring a small boat from the basement of the house and he took he rout on the lake. Mitchell said he didn't enjoy those activities, so he stayed at the house and read. "Besides," he had said, "I'm not here to have the fun that you are, Mademoiselle; I am here to make sure that you _do _have fun." She supposed that if that was the only reason Mitchell was here, he was doing a very good job; this was the most relaxed Christine had been since the night _Don Juan _opened.

Everything was going so well. Raoul maintained his gentle nature, and Christine found herself falling in love with him, despite constantly reminding herself of everything he had done. She seemed unable to control what her heart did and felt, and soon she had almost forgotten about how she had felt for Erik and all of the horrible things Raoul had done to the two of them. If Raoul had asked Christine to marry him, she was sure that she would say yes.

But he didn't ask her. Not for two weeks. Even by the end of the second week, he hadn't tried to force her to do anything, and he hadn't made any attempts to verbally or physically court her. The only thing they did that be considered questionable was sleep in the same bed. He gave no sign that he had any interest in her other than as a close friend. And Christine was grateful for that. It seemed that nothing could ruin their vacation.

At the start of their third week at the country house, everything began to fall apart. It was midnight Monday morning and Christine had been sleeping fitfully. She had been having nightmares the whole time she had been at the de Chagny estate, but when she woke up from them, she had no recollection of the dreams. On this morning, she woke with a start, drenched in a cold sweat, but she wasn't sure why. The dream she had been having was forgotten already.

Sighing, Christine rolled over, ready to curl up against Raoul and fall back asleep, when she realized that his side of the bed was cold. He wasn't there. She figured that he had just gone to the bathroom, but there was a part of her that was worried. So, Christine slowly climbed out of bed and started for the bathroom on the bedroom floor. When she got there, she found the door open and the bathroom vacant.

Confused, she went down the stairs and checked the bathroom on the first floor. That was unoccupied as well. _Where is Raoul? _ She thought. Christine went to see if she could wake Mitchell and see if he knew what was going on, but he wasn't in his room, either. Everyone was gone, and she had no idea where they were at.

Starting to get worried, Christine went back to the ground floor, grabbed a lantern, and walked outside, calling their names. There was no response. When she went to where the horses and carriage were kept, she found that the carriage was still there, but one of the horses was gone. _Did they leave me here? _ She wondered, starting to panic. _No, _the more rational part of her mind reasoned, _they wouldn't take just one horse. Not for both of them… Perhaps Mitchell had to run back to the city for something… _

Christine went back into the house. There was one place she hadn't checked yet. Slowly, she walked towards the basement door. _I promised Raoul I wouldn't do this… _She thought. _But this is the only place left… If he's not down here, then where is he?_

Slower still, Christine opened the door and looked down the long flight of steps descending into darkness. Taking a deep breath, she started down the stairs. As she went deeper under the ground, the air grew colder. She was grateful for the small amount of heat coming off the lantern, tiny though it was, and found herself wishing that she was wearing something warmer.

Finally, she had reached the bottom of the stairs. She held the lantern out in front of her, trying to see past her nose. "Raoul?" she whispered. "Mitchell? Are you down here?"

There was no response.

Her heart racing, Christine went deeper into the darkness. Something was very, very wrong here, but she wasn't quite sure what just yet. Through the deafening silence, Christine heard a faint noise. It was a noise she had heard one other time, when she had visited Erik in the jailhouse. It was the sound of chains. She could feel herself shaking as she called out, "Who's down here?"

Still no one responded, but now Christine knew she wasn't alone. There was someone down here with her, and she didn't think it was Raoul or Mitchell.

Remembering what Raoul had told her when they first arrived at the house, Christine reached with her free hand to a knob on the lantern. She turned it slowly and the flame grew brighter. Thinking that this could be stupid – now whoever was down here could see her before she saw them – she held her breath and started walking forward.

In the increased light, Christine noticed at once that something was definitely off. While there were things down in the basement that was dangerous, they were all pushed off to the side, well out of the way. There was no danger to her down here from tools; the danger was from whoever was down here with her.

Biting her lower lip, she continued into the darkness. She soon found herself stopped in front of a large, wooden door. It looked similar to the one at the jailhouse. She tired pushing it open, but it was locked. Looking around, Christine soon found a ring of keys hanging on a hook. With her free hand, she gripped the key ring and found the key that matched the lock.

Silently, she placed her ear against the door, listening for sounds from the other side. She heard the sounds of chains, louder than before. Now that she was seeing the door holding the source of the sound, Christine wondered how she had heard the sound the first time. This was a thick door, and it wouldn't let sound escape easily.

Her irrational side kicked in again, trying to come up with a reason as to what she was hearing. _There was an intruder… He broke into the house and chained Raoul and Mitchell down here, then stole a horse to escape. That's what happened; that has to be it. _"Hold on, Raoul," she whispered through the door.

Christine moved back from the door and slipped the key into the lock. She turned the key and pushed the door open. When she saw who was chained to the wall, she dropped the lantern. Her hands at her mouth barely suppressed her screams.

It wasn't Raoul and Mitchell who had been chained up in the basement of the de Chagny country house. It was Erik.


	30. Chains

**30. Chains**

When she finally got herself under control, she quickly picked up the lantern – which thankfully hadn't broken – and crossed the room quickly. She knelt down in front of Erik, wondering if this was some kind of trick. Raoul had been so wonderful to her these past few days, and she had done anything and everything to please him. She had even been falling in love with him again. But that was when she had thought Erik was still dead; that was the only reason. Now, here he was, sitting chained in Raoul's family's vacation house.

Christine stared at Erik's face, both wanting and not wanting him to really be there. She noticed with a start that he was unconscious, and was so out of it, he hadn't heard her come in. He hadn't even stirred when she screamed. Slowly, she reached out and touched his face. It felt stone cold under her fingers, which scared her terribly.

He had to have been down there for at least two weeks, but he had obviously been a prisoner for a short while longer. Erik looked exactly like he had when Christine had visited him at the jailhouse, the only difference being that now he was more hurt; what parts of his face that weren't covered by bruises were covered with cuts. Tears fell down her face as she came to the realization that Raoul had been torturing him; and Raoul had probably enjoyed every moment of it. She barely even noticed that he didn't have a mask on.

She didn't think there was any chance of him responding to her, but she had to try. "Erik?" she whispered.

To her surprise, and her relief, his eyes fluttered open. She didn't like how unfocused they seemed to be, but she could see that he recognized her. "Christine?"

"I'm here," she said, fighting through the tears. "What…?"

Christine could tell Erik was fighting against losing consciousness again, and every word he spoke took more energy than he had. "You didn't come back…I tried to find you, but Raoul…he had you… Said if I didn't do everything he said…he'd kill you…" As he stopped to catch his breath, Christine closed her eyes, trying to get a grip her rage. "I couldn't let him hurt you… I don't know how long I've been here, but Raoul comes down a lot… He enjoys…" Erik stopped again, but Christine didn't need him to finish. She could fill in the blanks herself. "What…happened to you?"

"I went to see Meg; she gave us money to help get away… I was on my way back to you when Raoul hit me. The next thing I knew, I was back at Raoul's mansion. He told me that I had dreamed everything up. That none of it actually happened… He had your mask, Erik. What was I supposed to think?" she whimpered.

"This isn't your…fault," Erik gasped. "Raoul is evil…twisted… He'd do anything to…control you."

Looking around, Christine tried to see how Erik was restrained. "We have to get you away from here."

"Not tonight… I'm not fit…to travel."

Christine closed her eyes against the tears. She knew Erik was right, but now that she knew he was down here, how could she leave him to Raoul's mercy? "How am I supposed to face him now?"

"You're a…talented actress, Christine. You'll figure it…out."

Taking a deep breath, Christine turned back to the doorway. She couldn't just leave him here, could she? Would she really be able to turn her back on him and leave him in his cell for the second time? _I have to. _Christine told herself. _If I don't leave him, Raoul will find out that I know… Then nothing can protect Erik...or me._

Christine turned back to Erik once more. She could see him slipping back into unconsciousness. Quickly, before pulling away, Christine kissed Erik. "I _will _come back for you."

"I know you will…" he responded, barely above a whisper.

Fighting against the urge to stay, Christine turned and went to the door. She closed it behind her, and had to bite back sobs as she locked it again. Was she sealing Erik in his tomb? _No! _ She screamed at herself. _I'm coming back for him. We're getting away. _

Moving faster, knowing that if she waited much longer Raoul might come back, Christine went back up the stairs and closed the basement door behind her. She turned the lamp down and put it back on the table. Rubbing the tears from her eyes, she went into the kitchen and sat at the table. The dream she had had before they had come to the country house came flooding back to her.

The dark room, Madame Giry speaking with Erik's voice, her being warned that she needed to wake up because they were both in danger… It all made sense now. The dream had been telling her to see through Raoul's lie; hers and Erik's life were in danger.

Christine put her head in her hands. Part of her was beyond devastated, and the other part of her was overjoyed. Erik was still alive; they had another chance to get away. But he was a prisoner again; being tortured by Raoul who was enjoying it more than anything. She hated herself right now. If only she had been paying attention after she'd been to see Meg; Raoul wouldn't have been able to use her as bait for Erik.

She looked up when she heard the front door open. Mitchell and Raoul's voices were barely audible, but they grew slightly louder as they came towards the kitchen. Raoul's eyes widened when he came into the room and saw her sitting at the table. "Christine," he said, smiling at her.

"Where were you?" she asked, climbing to her feet. She had to make Raoul believe the reason she looked like she'd been crying was because he hadn't been here.

"Mitchell and I just went out for a bit."

"At midnight with only one horse? Where could you possibly have gone?"

Raoul sighed crossed the room, pulling Christine into his arms. She involuntarily shuddered at his touch, but he thankfully shrugged that off as her being worried. "I'm sorry to have scared you, Little Lottie. Next time we go somewhere, I'll write a note so you won't worry."

Christine nodded, pulling away from Raoul. "I'm going back to bed," she whispered. Turning, she started for the stairway. Before going up, she turned to see Raoul and Mitchell disappear through the hallway. They had taken the lantern with them, and Christine knew there was only one thing down that hall for them. She went back up the stairs and into her room. As she lie down on the bed, Christine realized that Raoul hadn't answered her question. She had no idea where either of them had gone.

She buried her head in her pillow and tried not to think about what Raoul and Mitchell were doing to Erik in the basement. Rolling over, Christine looked at the ceiling. As she closed her eyes, she started thinking about how she could possibly get both her and Erik away from Raoul.


	31. Escape

**31. Escape**

It took all of Christine's might not to run back down to the basement of the vacation house every night when Raoul disappeared for the next week. The only thing that prevented her from going to Erik right then and there was the fear of what would happen if Raoul found out that she knew. She was more afraid of Raoul now than she had ever been before; Erik wouldn't have given himself up to Raoul without a fight. The fact that Erik had turned himself over, and the fact that it was, in part, her fault, made her feel sick.

The harder Christine tried to come up with an escape plan, the less likely a successful escape seemed. She soon came to the realization that there was no way both of them could get away while they were at the cabin. That left only one option; she would have to wait until they returned to the city.

Christine hoped her eagerness for the trip to end didn't show. If it did, Raoul didn't comment, but the last week they spent seemed intentionally drawn out. Having to share a bed with that man made Christine want to scream, and she could only pray that the final week would come to a close. When it finally did end and they had returned to Raoul's mansion, Christine realized she still had no idea how she was going to get her and Erik away. Though that wasn't what scared her most; she was worried that Erik had been left at the cabin. The only conformation Christine had that Raoul had even brought Erik back was that Mitchell had stayed at the cabin one day longer. She hadn't seen Erik brought back, and Raoul or Mitchell made it impossible to go see. They were keeping a very close eye on her when they returned.

She didn't give up hope, and was still praying for an opportunity to get down to the basement. Finally, just when she thought she would never have a chance to get Erik to safety, Raoul announced at breakfast that he was going away for a week.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"You wouldn't know where it is; just know that it's not too far. If anything happens, I can be back in a matter of hours. I just wanted you to know so you won't panic when you see I'm gone again," Raoul told her.

"Will Mitchell be going with you?"

"No, I've asked him to stay here and keep an eye on you. You've changed since we got back from the country and he's going to make sure you're alright."

So Raoul had noticed that something was going on. Christine hid her anger at her failure to make Raoul believe everything was fine as she said, "When are you leaving?"

Raoul looked at the clock on the wall before saying, "In about ten minutes."

Christine couldn't believe her luck. Raoul was leaving, and he would be gone for a while. The only obstacle facing her now was Mitchell; but she wasn't all that worried about him. She could get him away from the house easily while Raoul was gone. Barely containing her excitement, Christine attempted to look frustrated that Raoul hadn't told her he was leaving sooner, but still wished him a safe journey and watched until his carriage disappeared down the street. Then, she turned back to the house. She couldn't wait any longer; Raoul might come back sooner. Christine had to get Erik out now.

First things first, she had to get rid of Mitchell. He was still helping the servants clean up breakfast when Christine found him. She had no idea what she was going to ask him to do to get him away, but he saved her the trouble. Before she could say anything, Mitchell spoke. "How long have you known?"

Swallowing her nerves, Christine asked, "What are you talking about?"

"How long have you known Raoul's had him?"

Her heart stopped. How could Mitchell know that? She decided her best option would be to play it off like she had no idea what he was talking about. "I'm confused, Mitchell. I don't know anything about Raoul…"

"I've been suspicious for a while now," he continued, cutting her off. "I've had a feeling that you've known he's had Erik for a while, but when I saw you're reaction to Raoul leaving him this morning, my suspicion was confirmed. How long have you known?"

She tried to get herself to lie, but Christine found herself telling him the truth. "I found him the last week we stayed at the cabin."

Mitchell nodded, turning to her. "I was there the day he took both of you. I saw what he did… My family has served his for generations, but even I have to draw the line somewhere… And having to listen to him torture Erik for so long… Everything he's put you through... All the things he's done to both of you... The line has to be drawn somewhere.

"What are you saying?"

"The keys are in Raoul's room, top drawer of the bedside table." He turned back to the dishes. "Take the small carriage from the back and one of the older horses. Get as far from Paris as you can, because when he comes back and sees you're gone, he will follow you. But I won't tell him anything. I'l just say I got knocked unconscious or something."

"Come with us, Mitchell," she whispered. "If he ever finds out that you helped us, nothing can protect you."

He looked at her with sad eyes. "I can't leave, Mademoiselle; this is my only home…but I can get everything ready for you." Mitchell turned and went around back.

Christine ran from the room, up the stairs, and down the hall to the room Raoul stayed in. She didn't stop to look around; she only slid the drawer open and pulled out the three keys lying in it. Clutching the keys, Christine had a thought, and before running to the basement, she went to her room and grabbed Erik's mask. Now that she had everything, Christine ran back to the basement door, unlocked it, and threw it open. Without hesitating, she raced down the stairs, only stopping to unlock the final door.

Closing it behind her she called, "Erik, we have to go now."

"I was starting to think you weren't coming back…" he whispered to her. She could barely hear his voice it was so faint.

She knelt in front of him and bit back her sadness as she looked at how badly beaten Erik looked. Christine let her anger at Raoul fuel her as she unlocked the chains at his wrists. "Of course I was coming back. It's just…Raoul was paying very good attention…" Before helping him to his feet, Christine gave Erik his mask. He looked bit more like himself with the mask on, but he was still weak and shaking, his face was still cut and bruised. Still he, looked grateful to at least have the mask back. Christine helped Erik to his feet. He leaned against her and she supported him as they went across the floor and up the stairs. "Mitchell is helping us. He's getting everything ready for us."

"Can we trust him?"

Christine focused on the steps in front of her as she realized that she hadn't thought about that. _Could _she trust Mitchell? Like he said, his family had served Raoul's for generations. Maybe he really did mean that it was time to draw the line, but was she willing to risk their freedom on it? "We have to trust him, Erik. I can't get us away without help."

They reached the backyard of the house where Mitchell had prepared a small carriage with an old horse, and a young boy was sitting behind the horse holding the reins, ready to drive the coach for them. "Who is he?" Christine asked Mitchell as she passed.

"His name is Brent. He's one of the younger servants here, and he's terrified of Raoul. He arrived at the same time you two did, and is afraid of ending up in Erik's situation. He'll take you out of Paris, to a station where you can buy ferry tickets." Mitchell handed Christine a purse and said, "This has enough money to get you to America, but that's all I can do for you."

"Thank you, Mitchell. We owe you everything." Christine hurried past him and helped Erik into the carriage before turning back to Mitchell and taking the purse.

"Just don't come back," he told her. "And take good care of Brent. He's a good kid." With one final sad smile at Christine, Mitchell turned and went back into the house.

Christine told Brent to go as fast as the horse could take them, then got into the carriage. Erik was curled up on the carriage seat, sleeping. Christine sat across from him and placed a hand on his cheek; his skin was ice cold. She wished she had grabbed a blanket before she had left, but she hadn't had much time to grab anything. She had barely remembered to grab Erik's mask.

Sitting back with a sigh, Christine saw a suitcase sitting on the floor between the benches. Christine leaned down and opened it, smiling when she saw the change of clothes Mitchell had packed; a warm dress for Christine, a black suit and cloak with a hood for Erik. She pushed the clothes aside and saw a quilt underneath. Saying a silent thank you to Mitchell, she pulled out the quilt and draped it around Erik's sleeping form. She realized with a sad start that this would have been the first time he had been able to lay down since the morning Raoul had come to the lair. Raoul had kept him chained in a sitting position; Erik would have had to sleep sitting up, if Raoul had let him sleep at all.

She closed the suitcase and sat back, watching Erik sleep. He was alive; she was alive. They were both on their way away from danger, but they were headed into great unknown. Christine had no idea what they were going to do now, but she knew they had to do it fast. It wouldn't be long before Raoul came home and discovered they were gone. After that, there would be no power on Earth to stop him from coming after them.


	32. Brent

**32. Brent**

Christine didn't know when she fell asleep, but the next thing she knew Brent was shaking her, trying to get her to wake up. Looking around, Christine saw that she was still in the carriage, and Erik was still asleep across from her. Brent was watching her with wide eyes, saying something that she couldn't quite make out; her ears were still asleep. "What's that?" she asked, shaking her head.

"I said the horse can't go no farther," he told her. "It's too tired; looks about to drop." He flinched away, as if afraid she'd hit him.

"It's alright, Brent," Christine said with a sigh. "We knew it was going to happen sooner or later." Shaking the stiffness from her limbs, Christine climbed out of the carriage after Brent and looked around. They were in a large wooded area, similar to where she and Raoul had stayed a few weeks before. "Where are we?" she asked.

"I went the way Mr. Mitchell told me to, and stayed off the main roads like he instructed," the young boy told her. "We've been on the move for several hours now; the sun is setting. We're still several miles from where we want to be, though."

"You've done very well today, Brent… Do you know if there's anywhere we can stay for the night that's warm and sheltered?"

"I 'dunno, ma'am. I could go and look," he offered.

Christine nodded and said, "Don't go too far; I want you to stay as close as you can."

Brent nodded and raced off to see if there was somewhere they could stay. Christine nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Erik's voice call to her from the carriage. "You're not bad with children."

Sighing with relief, Christine turned and smiled when she saw Erik coming towards her. He was limping slightly, but he kept coming towards her. "It's good to see you walking by yourself," she said, closing the distance between them. She put her arms around him and rested her head against his chest. Christine closed her eyes as Erik returned the hug.

"I'm sorry about everything that's happened, Christine," Erik told her without pulling away. "If I could have found a way to get you away from Raoul without turning myself over to him, I would have done it. It was the only way I could keep you safe."

"I had no idea he had you…" she told him again. "He made me think you were dead… How many more times do you think I'll fall for that?"

"Where are we headed?" Erik asked, trying to change the subject.

Christine reluctantly pulled away from him and looked off towards where Brent had run off. "Mitchell gave us enough money to get tickets for a ferry to America…"

"So we have to leave Paris to get away from the Viscount," Erik said, crossing his arms. "I wonder if that will be far enough…"

She shuddered as she thought of Raoul, but said, "It's not just Raoul we have to get away from, it's the police. You're wanted here, Erik. If we really want to be together, we have to go somewhere we can get a fresh start. Where can we hope to find a better new life than America?"

"The New World…" Erik whispered. "I've been almost everywhere on this planet, but I haven't yet made it there."

Christine looked over at Erik, smiling at the look of wonder and excitement on his face. "I only hope the horse can hold out," she said, walking towards the old horse. Brent had unhooked the horse and tied the reins to the carriage. The horse was lying down, breathing heavily. "He's old, and I don't know how much more he has in him."

Erik came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "He'll make it, if we treat him well. Even an old horse can reach great distances."

_I hope you're right… _Christine thought, watching the horse struggle to catch his breath. "He'll need some time to rest up before we can finish our journey… I really hope Brent can find somewhere for us to hide while we wait."

"If we do hide, we'll have to do something with the horse and carriage. If Raoul finds them, he'll know we're close…"

"And when we leave will have to do something… Maybe we can sell them?"

"Perhaps… The horse won't fetch much, but the carriage might."

Christine nodded and turned around in Erik's arms. She felt herself overcome with joy and sadness at being in his arms again. "I can't lose you again," she whispered, burying her face in his chest.

"Where did this come from?" he asked, holding her tighter. "I thought we'd moved past this part of the conversation?"

"I'm not kidding, Erik. I've lost you twice now; a third time…I don't think my heart could take it."

"Everything will be alright when we get to America," Erik promised.

Christine turned when she heard approaching footsteps, tense and ready to run. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw it was just Brent. He stopped breathless in front of her and Erik, doubled over, hands on his knees.

"You didn't have to run so fast," Christine said, watching Brent nervously.

"I…found…a small…group of trees…" he said in between breaths, ignoring Christine's comment. "There's…plenty…of shade…and...protection there…"

"Show us," Christine said.

"The horse…and…carriage…can't fit… It's too tight…of a squeeze…"

Christine looked at Erik hopelessly. They had just been discussing the problems the horse and carriage could cause. "Go with the boy and check the place out," Erik told her. "I'll take care of the horse and carriage."

"If you think for one moment I'm going to leave you here alone…"

"We don't have time for this, Christine," Erik told her. "Go with Brent."

"Erik, you're not at your full strength. If something happens…"

"Raoul isn't in Paris, right?" Erik asked. Christine nodded. "And he won't be back for a while?" Christine nodded. "Then there's nothing to worry about. Raoul is the only real threat to us right now, and he isn't here. Go with Brent, then come back and if it looks like we can actually stay there for a while, then we'll go back together."

Not liking this decision, Christine knew there was no way she was changing Erik's mind. With a quick kiss, they parted ways again.

For a while, Christine and Brent walked in silence. Then, Brent asked, "You really love him, don't you? That man?"

"Erik?" Christine clarified. "Yes, I do. He's everything to me."

"And Raoul scares you?"

"More than anything else in this world," Christine responded, staring fixedly ahead of her.

"He scares me to…" Brent whispered. "There were days when he went down to the basement, he made me go and watch. He made me help… I always apologized to that man before I left… I didn't want to hurt him, but Raoul said if I didn't…"

"It's alright, Brent. I know you would never do anything to hurt either of us if you had a choice," Christine said. "Did Raoul really make you torture Erik?" Brent nodded, not responding verbally. "I'm so sorry, Brent. You don't deserve that."

"When I was younger, my dad told me I would always do great things. I never imagined I'd have to hurt someone like that…"

Christine watched Brent walking ahead of her. "Oh, Brent… I wish I had known. I would have out a stop to it immediately."

"My father tried to make Raoul stop, but Raoul hit him when he spoke up. He said servants don't have the right to tell their master what to do. My father wanted to come with us, but he knew that if he did, Raoul would find us and so he stayed behind."

"Brent, who's your father?" Christine asked, starting to put something together.

"He was the one who helped you get away; Mitchell… Just, don't tell him I said his name twice... Father says it's not right for children to use their parent's first name, even once."

Christine grabbed Brent's shoulders and spun him around, studying his face. His wide eyes watched her nervously, but she wasn't seeing him. She was seeing Mitchell. Brent looked exactly like Mitchell, just younger. "That was why he sent you with us…" she whispered. Once Raoul learned that Mitchell had helped Christine and Erik escape - which he would, and quickly - he would have tortured Brent to get information out of Mitchell. He was protecting his son.


	33. Hard Things

**33. Hard Things**

When her moment of shock wore off, Christine let go of Brent's shoulders. "I'm sorry if I scared you," she said, shaking her head. "I just…never realized how much like your father you looked… I didn't even realize Mitchell was…"

"Yeah, I hear that a lot," Brent nodded, turning back to the forest around them. He was silent for a moment before saying, "I understand why he sent me away, but I wish he had come with us… Will Raoul hurt him, ma'am?" he asked.

Christine looked at the ground as she considered her response. She knew that when Raoul came home, it was only a matter of time before he learned that she and Erik had gotten away. And from there, it wouldn't take much time for him to realize that Mitchell had helped them escape. When that happened…Christine dreaded what might happen to the poor, faithful butler. She knew that Raoul would do worse than hurt Mitchell; if he didn't get the information he wanted, he would _kill _Mitchell. Christine had no idea what she should tell Brent. Would he be able to deal with the truth? Would she be able to deal with his reaction when he learned what fate awaited his father?

"Raoul won't be pleased when he finds out that Mitchell helped us…" Christine said, choosing her words carefully. She hesitated for a moment, but finally decided that right now, honesty wasn't the best policy. "And I don't know what will happen to him after that."

"When Raoul gets angry, he enjoys hurting others… Is he going to kill Father?"

"I honestly don't know," she told him, flinching against the lie.

Brent led her to the hiding place in silence. Christine understood why Mitchell had sent Brent away, and why he hadn't come with them - it would have been too obvious to Raoul that something was wrong if his faithful butler didn't greet him when he came home - but she now felt responsible for Brent's well-being. She realized that if anything happened to him, if he got injured, or sick, or, Heaven forbid, killed, Christine knew she would never forgive herself. Mitchell had saved hers and Erik's life, and in return, he had indirectly asked her to look after and raise his son. She wanted to do that, and she would do that. Christine knew now that she would die before she let anyone touch Brent, or Erik. No one would touch her boys, she decided.

A short while later, they had reached the spot Brent had found. It was a large ring of trees, their roots intertwining underneath the soft ground. When Christine looked up, she saw that the leaves of the trees covered the sky and protected the center of the ring from the outside weather. She smiled over at Brent, who was watching her with hopeful eyes. "This is perfect, Brent," she told him.

"Really?" he asked, a smile lighting up his face.

"Yes, really," she nodded. "Let's go and get Erik."

Christine reached a hand towards Brent and he took it gratefully. Together, they walked back to where the carriage had stopped. She felt her heart racing as they entered the clearing, half worried they'd find Raoul standing over Erik's body. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Christine smiled when she saw Erik leaning against a tree, with no new injuries, waiting for them.

"Told you there wouldn't be a problem," he called over to her. "Does the place work?"

"It's perfect," Christine told him. "Same thing I told Brent when I saw it."

"Then let's go; I don't like being out in the open for so long." Erik stood and crossed the field, taking Christine's spare hand. Together, the three of them started towards the ring of trees.

Christine wanted to talk to Erik alone, so she told Brent, "Why don't you run on ahead; just stay where I can see you, alright?"

"Okay," Brent nodded, releasing Christine's hand. He walked on ahead, staying in Christine's line of sight, looking at the sky.

"You know who is father is?" she asked Erik when Brent was out of earshot. She didn't have to ask, Christine already knew that Erik knew the truth; it was more a statement, but she wanted to hear it from him.

"Of course," Erik nodded. "I knew the moment I saw them at the mansion. They're so alike, Christine. I'm surprised you didn't see it right away."

Looking at Erik, Christine said, "He gave us his son, Erik. He knows what's going to happen."

Erik nodded slowly. "I thin we all knew the moment he helped you that his life was forfeit. When Raoul comes back, he'll torture Mitchell for information, and if he doesn't get what he wants, he'll kill Mitchell... I'm pretty sure that even _if _Mitchell gives us up, Raoul will still kill him. That's just who he is."

Christine closed her eyes, fighting the pain of guilt beginning to weigh down on her. "I killed him…"

"No," Erik said, gripping Christine's hand tighter. "He knew what he was doing, Christine. Mitchell gave us his son to raise him in his stead; I think you know that. All he wants from us is for us to raise his son. He won't have died for nothing if we raise his son the way he would have."

"I can't look at him without seeing Mitchell… How can I raise him knowing I killed his father?"

Erik stopped and let go of her hand. He came to stand in front of her and gripped her shoulders. Looking deep into her eyes he said, "Nothing that has happened to anyone is your fault Christine. Not you being kidnapped, not my being tortured, not Mitchell being killed. All of the blame lies at Raoul's doorstep. I don't want to hear you blaming yourself for anything that happens again, do you understand me?"

Tears slid down her cheeks as she nodded. Christine fell against Erik and put her arms around him. "I'm glad I have you back, Erik. I've missed you."

"Is everything alright?" she heard Brent call from up ahead.

Christine pushed back and dried her eyes. "Yes," she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Everything's okay, Brent," Christine smiled over at him.

He went on ahead, leaving Christine and Erik behind. "We have to tell him the truth, Christine. We won't be able to leave him in the dark forever."

"I know," Christine nodded. "I tried to tell him earlier, but I wasn't strong enough..."

"I'll be there with you, Christine. Take strength from me; you can do this." Erik took her hand again and they continued on.

She dreaded the moment she would have to sit down with Brent and tell him what was going to happen to his father. Her heart seemed to stop when they reached the ring of trees. Christine went over to Brent and said, "I need to talk to you."

Brent, who had a few moments ago been looking at the trees happily, turned to Christine with a worried glance. "What is it?"

"Perhaps we should sit?" Christine offered, gesturing at the soft ground. Brent watched her carefully as they sat down. She looked once over her shoulder to see Erik watching them both. He stood nearby and nodded encouragingly. Christine took a deep breath before continuing. "You know that Raoul is a bad, bad man, don't you?"

Brent nodded, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "Doesn't everyone?"

Christine smiled sadly as she continued, "Your father is very brave, Brent, and he did a very good thing helping the three of us getting away. You understand that too, right?" Again, Brent nodded. His gaze was darkening with worry. "And you understand that because he helped us get away, he's going to be in trouble with Raoul?"

"We were talking about this before, when you and I came here alone. You said you didn't know what was going to happen to Father…" Brent said, his voice shaking.

"I lied, Brent. I know exactly what's going to happen to him, but I didn't know how to tell you."

Her heart broke as she watched tears well up in Brent's eyes. He was so young, so caring, so gentle; he had known only one person who loved him, and it was Mitchell. Now, Christine would have to tell him that his father had only days left before Raoul would kill him. In the few short hours she had known Brent, she had fallen in love with him, and wanted to protect him from the hard things the world had to offer. Part of this was because he was Mitchell's son, and she owed Mitchell a great debt, but another part of it was that was his personality was so genuine, so sweet; she didn't want to see him hurt. And now she had the be the one to hurt him.

"Is Raoul going to hurt my daddy?" he whispered.

_Why, why did he have to use "daddy"? _Christine thought, fighting tears as she finished. "I'm sorry, Brent… But I think Raoul may kill him."

Shooting to his feet, Brent looked down at her with rage on his face, tears in his eyes. "No, he can't kill Father! Father's good; he did a good thing! You're supposed to be rewarded when you do good things, not hurt!"

"To Raoul what Mitchell did wasn't a good thing," Christine climbed to her feet, reaching out to him. Brent pulled away, backing into the trees. "If I could help him, I swear to you I would, but it's impossible…"

"We can go back! We can go back to the mansion and save Father! There's still time!"

Christine shook her head, brushing tears away. "We can't. If anyone other than Mitchell catches us, we'll all be taken and Raoul will never let us go. He'll hold me hostage forever…"

"All you care about is yourself! My daddy saved you, and you don't care about him!" Brent screamed at her.

"No, that's not it at all! If anyone catches us, you and Erik will be killed for no other reason than because I care about you!" she exclaimed, trying to get the grieving child to see reason. "I don't want you to get hurt, Brent!"

"You don't care about my father…" he whispered. "You don't care about me."

His words hurt more than he would ever know. Christine closed her eyes and bowed her head, trying to fight the growing sorrow welling up in her chest. She was so lost in her own pain, she wasn't aware that Erik had come over to them until she heard him speaking to Brent.

"Listen to me," he was saying, "if Christine and I could go back and get Mitchell, we would. We would do anything to help him. But if we go back, Raoul will catch us and he will kill us. Your father sent you with us for one reason; he knew what he was doing for us would get him in a lot of trouble. He sent you away with us so you would be safe; it's our job now to take care of you."

"But I want my daddy…" he whispered.

"I know," Erik said. Christine opened her eyes and watched them; both of them had tears in her eyes. "I understand more than you could ever know. I never knew my father, and my mother abandoned me when I was very young. She left me alone to fend for myself; I didn't have anyone to look after me for years. I wanted nothing more than to have my parents hold me and tell me everything would be okay. It wasn't until I found Christine that I felt whole again."

Christine closed her eyes as Erik continued. "And Christine...her mother died when she was a baby, her father a few years later. She lost her father when she was your age. She was left an orphan at the opera house where we used to live."

"You're both orphans?" he asked.

"Yes; we were both left alone by our parents; not necessarily by their choices, they left us both alone in this world. But you father, he didn't leave you alone. He sent you with us so you would have people to raise you, people who are good and care about you," Erik spoke to Brent with such a soft voice; it was softer than she had ever heard it. "Christine loves you, Brent, and it kills her to see you so upset. If it were in her power, she would give her own life for Mitchell's. But she can't; none of us can. The reality is, we're on our own now, but we're not _really _alone."

Christine came forward and looked at Brent compassionately. "We have each other."

Brent looked at her with big, sad eyes. "I'm sorry, ma'am; I didn't mean to say those things to you…" he whispered apologetically.

"It's alright, Brent," she told him. "I'm not mad at you. You weren't completely unjustified... And please, don't call me ma'am. It's to formal."

"So…Christine then?" he asked.

Christine nodded and smiled. Erik turned to her and looked at her with a "was-that-really-so-difficult?" look. She sighed as Brent took a few deep breaths, calming himself down.

"I'm really going to miss my dad," he told them, "but I have a new family now."

Erik smiled at Brent and said, "See if you can find food and water, alright? But don't go to far."

Brent nodded and ran off, leaving them alone. Erik came back over to Christine and put his arm around her shoulders. She let herself collapse against him, breathing a sigh of relief. "That was harder than almost anything I've ever done…"

"If that wasn't the hardest thing you've done, what was?" he asked, resting his head against hers.

She responded simply, "Leaving you in Raoul's basement."


	34. Final Stand

**34. Final Stand**

Brent managed to find them food and a source of fresh water that was safe to drink. Where he got all of the food, Christine didn't know. She wondered if there was a cabin nearby, and if he had stolen it, but she didn't mind that at the moment. Wherever he got the food, she was grateful they had it. The trio ate in silence. Christine spent the time thinking over her conversation with Erik and Brent earlier; she had nearly lost Brent in his sadness and anger, but Erik had been able to bring him back. Christine had known for a while now that the fabled Phantom had the capability to be so compassionate. In fact, she had experienced it first hand. But she had never seen him be so gentle before. She was so thankful she had them both. Christine had no idea what she would do without them.

After they had eaten, they found the softest spot on the ground and curled up together. The canopy of leaves above them might have kept the rain and most of the wind out, but it didn't keep out the cold. Christine had no idea how any of them would sleep; she could just barely feel Brent shivering against her through her own shivers. Only Erik seemed impervious to it.

When Brent had finally fallen asleep, Christine turned to face Erik who was lying behind her. He was looking up at the canopy above them, a sad light glowing in his eyes. "I wish I could see the stars," he whispered to her. "I miss the stars…"

Christine nodded, knowing that Erik had been kept in Raoul's basement for weeks. He hadn't seen the sky in ages, and now, even though they were sleeping out in the wilderness, it was still impossible for him to see the sky. He must have felt so trapped. "When we get to America," Christine said, rolling against him, "we can stargaze for hours on end."

"That would be nice," he told her. He wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in his warmth. "Are we sure going to America is the right decision? It'll be very different from Paris. From what I've heard, there are no opera houses there. We wouldn't be able to do what we're used to."

"We'll both have to adjust, that's true," Christine nodded. "But we can't stay here. Even if Raoul did give up on us, which he won't, the police would still hunt you down until you were caught or killed. You're in danger here, even without Raoul looking for us."

"But America seems a bit…extreme," Erik protested. "Do you really have to leave Europe? We could go somewhere that's still in the same part of the world."

Christine realized with a start that Erik was scared. He had known nothing of life outside of the opera house and the cages he had been forced into as a child and, now, as an adult. Having to leave behind the world he knew for one that was completely strange and distant was scaring him.

"Everything will be alright, Erik," she promised, moving back so she could look him in the eye. "We'll be fine as long as we stay together. We've been through so much worse than this; compared to everything else, this will be a cakewalk."

Erik didn't even seem slightly comforted by her words, but sighed with resignation. "I would follow you anywhere, Christine," he told her. He hesitated before adding: "Even if it means leaving behind everything I once knew."

Soon after their conversation, Erik's breathing slowed and he fell into a restful sleep. Christine wished more than anything she could fall asleep as easily, but despite her exhaustion, fear kept her eyes wide open. She knew Raoul would be after them soon, but she didn't know how long he would be. There were a number of reasons he could already have returned to the mansion and found them gone. From there, it would probably only take him a few hours to find out where they were headed and come after them. And when he finally found them…

Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wished Raoul had never come back in her life. She wished he had stayed a part of her past, and not become a part of her future. His threat was hanging over their heads like a guillotine, and it was only a matter of time before it came down. For the rest of the night, every sound she heard - every creak of the branches overhead, every snap of a twig echoing through the woods - was Raoul coming closer and closer…

The next thing she knew, Erik was shaking her awake. Christine rubbed her eyes and sat up stiffly. She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep, but even though she eventually had, it hadn't been restful. Christine was more tired now than she had been the night before. Erik helped her climb to her feet, and she saw Brent returning with more food. He came from a different direction he had the night before, which meant he had found more than one food source.

"I think the horse is will be ready to move," he told her, giving her a handful of round blueberries. "I'll just have to take a quick look at it, but I think it can take us the rest of the way to the ferry station today."

"Good," Christine smiled down at him. "It'll be good to get back on the move."

After a quick breakfast, Erik led them to where he had hidden the horse and carriage the day before. Brent quickly ran over to the horse and checked on it, nodding happily back at them when he was done. He began to hitch up house, and the old animal whinnied excitedly. It wanted to get back on the road as badly as the rest of them did.

Christine and Erik watched him carefully as Brent get the horse hooked up. "We won't have to run him so hard today," Erik called over to him as he tightened the last of the straps. "As long as everything goes smoothly, we should be able to set a nice, steady pace."

"I know," Brent responded brightly.

He was happier today than he had been the night before. The news of his father's impending death must have been difficult for him, and he must've still been struggling, but he seemed to have taken great strength and comfort from the fact that he still had Christine and Erik to look after him.

"I have to take care of something before we go," Erik whispered to her as Brent finished up. "Help him collect some food for the trip, and I'll be along shortly."

"Can't I go with you?"

Erik smiled and shook his head. "You wouldn't want to watch."

Reluctantly, Christine let go of Erik's hand and watched him go into the forest back towards their hiding spot. Apprehension budded in her chest as she and Brent collected berries and other snacks from the bushes around the clearing. When they finished and Erik still wasn't back, Christine told Brent to stay with the horse and went after him.

Apprehension turned to fear as she got closer and closer to the ring of trees. Something was wrong; she could feel it. When she reached the place they had spent the night, her heart began to race when she realized Erik wasn't there. Spinning in tight circles, she tried to think of where he could have gotten to. By what he had said, Christine figured he had to use the bathroom, but if that was really where he had gone, he should've been back a while ago.

"Erik?" she called out.

She started towards the edge of the ring of trees. Where was he? Christine broke into a run, calling frantically, hoping for some sign that Erik was nearby. There were no responses to any of her cries. She stopped breathless in a clearing, and nearly fainted when she saw who was standing there waiting for her. Raoul had found them.

"How did you get to us so quickly?" she whispered, watching Raoul with wide, fearful eyes.

"I forgot something important that I needed at home, so I went back for it. When I found you were gone, I asked Mitchell where you went. He lied to me, so I did what I had to. He wasn't very strong. It only took a few hours for him to tell me everything. After that, well…traitors must be punished," Raoul said with an evil smile, walking towards her. "I'm glad you finally came looking for him, Christine. I thought there for a moment you two had fought and gone separate ways, but, I suppose not. Nothing keeps you two apart for long."

"What do you want, Raoul?"

"Justice for those Erik's killed…and you, of course, but I'll take justice first."

"Where is he?"

"All these questions, Christine, and none of them are about me. Didn't you stop to think about how your actions would hurt me? Didn't you think about how worried I would be when I found you gone?"

"Did you ever stop to think about how _your _actions would hurt _me_? Did you ever think about how afraid I was of you?" Christine shot back, glaring at Raoul. "Where is he?"

"Still alive, if that's what you're wondering. I've decided that there's only one true way for me to show you that this man is meant to die. Trial by combat hasn't been used in years, but I was thinking of bringing it back, just this once. If he is killed, you'll see that it was ordained by God for him to die for his crimes." Raoul stalked ever closer, and Christine moved back towards the woods, trying to stay out of his grasp. "Come now, Christine, don't you want to watch?"

"Why are you risking everything on this? For your pride?" she hissed, watching him closely.

"That's part of it, yes, but I also know how religious you are. You believe in God and His will, so come see it done." Raoul held a hand out to her. "Come see your love die for his crimes."

Christine didn't trust Raoul at all, but she had to know Erik was alright. If he was still alive, then they still had a chance to get away. They had done it before, so why not now? Cautiously, Christine took Raoul's hand and let him lead her through the woods. They stopped in a new clearing where she saw Erik sitting tied to a tree, his head bowed and eyes closed. Raoul dropped her hand and let her go to him.

His eyes opened as she kneeled in front of him. He was still alive, but he looked defeated. "This is the third time he's overpowered me," Erik said, looking at Christine sadly. "And it will be the last. I'm sorry this keeps happening, Christine. Every time, we're so close to getting away, and every time I've been captured…"

"Stop talking like that, Erik. You're going to get out of this, just like you have before," Christine told him angrily.

"He's told me his plan; trial by combat. He told me he wants God to judge whether I am meant to live or die this day, but I believe that he wants to finish what he started that day in the lair. Raoul couldn't kill me then, so he will now."

"No he won't. You'll win this; you're stronger, smarter, and faster."

"You were saying yourself, Christine, just yesterday. I'm not back to my full strength yet."

"If you two are quite finished, I have a trial to begin," Raoul called to them. He crossed the clearing with two swords in his hands. He pushed Christine to the side cut Erik loose before handing him one of the swords. "Stay out of the way, Christine, you don't want to get hurt."

She watched in horror as Raoul lunged for Erik. Swiftly, Erik dodged the blow and brought his sword around to meet with Raoul's neck. Instead, Raoul was able to deflect the blow, though the strength behind it caused him to stagger. Christine could only watch as they fought, trying to figure out what made Raoul decide to do this. He could have easily killed Erik while he had been tied to the tree and made Christine watch, but he didn't. He was giving Erik a chance to defend himself. The seeming kindness confused Christine; Raoul wanted nothing more than to see Erik in a shallow grave, and have Christine for himself. Why would he risk throwing away everything, his own life included, to give Erik a fighting chance?

_Because he knows he can win. _A small part of her whispered. _He tortured Erik for weeks, and they both know that Erik doesn't have the strength to fight for long. Raoul's doing this for your benefit; he wants you to watch as the man you love fights for your freedom…and loses. _Christine bit back a cry as the reality sank in. Raoul wanted her to watch her future of freedom die fighting, with a sword in his hand. Even now, she could see Erik was struggling under the weight of Raoul's attack. Everything was happening in the opposite of that day at the lair, when Raoul had been forced to go on the defensive. Now, it was Erik that was losing ground.

Christine had to do something. She couldn't stand by and watch Erik die. She had decided yesterday that no one would hurt Brent or Erik, and she meant to stand by that. If the need arose, she would throw herself in front of Raoul's sword, give her own life in exchange for Erik's. She loved him, and she wasn't going to watch him die. Not at Raoul's hand.

Horror and fear flooded through her as she watched Erik sink to the ground, breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath and keep Raoul at bay at the same time. Raoul feigned an attack to Erik's left side, and when Erik went to block it, Raoul moved the sword to the other side and sliced at his right hand. Erik's sword fell from his wounded hand, leaving him defenseless. He began to back away from Raoul slowly, holding his wounded hand to his chest. Raoul turned his back on Erik's discarded sword.

He soon closed the distance between him and Erik. He didn't bring his sword down for a killing blow. Instead, he looked down on Erik in satisfaction, and kicked him in the ribs. He laughed maniacally when Erik cried out. Unable to bare it any longer, Christine started for Erik's sword.

Neither of the men saw her inching closer to the blade; neither of them saw her pick it up. Raoul kicked Erik a few more times before saying, "Now, you die." He raised his sword above his head, poised over Erik's heart.

"I'm sorry, Christine," she heard him whisper. "I'm not strong enough..."

Raoul brought the sword down...but it stopped, just a few inches away from Erik's chest. He made a sound of surprise and pain, and dropped his blade. Looking down, he saw the sword that had been pushed through his back protruding from his chest, covered in his blood. Raoul turned slowly, gripping at the sword, and looked at the woman standing behind him, her hands over her mouth, her eyes filled with tears.

Slowly, he fell to his knees, his eyes wide with pain and rage. Glaring up at her he said, "Now…you're one of him…" Raoul gestured back to Erik as he coughed up blood. "Now…you're a murderer…too." He gave one final breath before slumping over, dead.

Christine collapsed next to his body and screamed, the horror at what she had done washing over her for the first time. She hadn't been thinking about what would happen when she did it; she had only wanted to protect Erik. Heaving sobs wracked her body, and she lie down on the grass next to Raoul's body, rolling onto her side.

Erik had crawled over to her. He pulled her into his arms and rocked her back and forth, whispering comforts into her ear. "I didn't…I didn't mean to…" she screamed, burying her face in Erik's chest.

"I know, Christine," Erik said. "I know you didn't."

"He killed Mitchell…he was going to kill you…I couldn't lose you! But I didn't want to kill him! I just wanted to stop him! Erik!" Christine clung to the front of his shirt, and sobbed against him. Gently, Erik lifted her from the ground.

"We can't stay here; we have to leave."

Despite how exhausted he had to feel and how much pain he had to be in, Erik carried her the whole way back to the carriage. Christine could hear Brent asking what happened, why they had been gone so long and why they were both covered in blood, but Erik just told him to get up on the carriage and get them to the ferry station as fast as he could.

Inside the carriage, Christine sat slumped against Erik, who was holding her tightly and telling her everything would be alright now. But she knew it would never be alright. Raoul had been evil, and he had been trying to kill Erik, but he had still been human. He had still been her closest childhood friend. He had still been her childhood crush. And she had killed him. Without a second thought, she had driven the sword through his heart, knowing full well the consequences.

No, she would never be fully alright. A part of her had died in that clearing along with Raoul. A part of Christine Daaé had been lost, and it would never be coming back.


	35. The Future

**35. The Future**

For the rest of the journey to the ferry station, Christine sat in silence, staring across the carriage at the back wall, seeing nothing. She could feel Erik next to her, his arm around her, holding her close, but she didn't respond to any of his attempts at conversation. Christine could only hear Raoul's last words, see him coughing up blood as he lay, dying, the sword in his chest. The sword she had put there.

When they arrived at the station, Brent took the purse Mitchell had given them and paid for three tickets for the next ferry to America. With the tickets purchased, they had secured their travel away from Paris. Christine and Erik didn't leave the carriage, afraid of being recognized by someone. They had only a few more hours of hiding before they would be able to walk in daylight without fear.

The hours seemed to drag into eternity, and Christine knew she wasn't helping by sitting and staring at the seat of the carriage across from her refusing to say anything. Erik tried his hardest to get her to speak to him, or to eat something, but she was too lost in shock and disgust at what she had done. The irrational part of her mind whispered that she was a murderer, a killer, and she should turn herself in to the authorities instead of running from punishment like a coward. The other, rational part of her mind reminded her that Raoul was dangerous, a killer, who wanted nothing more than to see the man she loved dead and her in his bed, baring his children. Nothing the more rational part of her mind said made any difference in her mind. She was a killer; did that make her any better than Raoul?

_Erik's killed people, too_. The rational part of her mind whispered. _ You did it for the same reasons Erik did, not at all like Raoul. Raoul killed because he enjoyed it; you did it because you needed to protect those you love. _Christine knew that that part of her mind was telling her the truth, but the side that kept telling her she was a killer, a guilty murderer, was more convincing.

Finally, only fifteen minutes before they were to leave, Christine broke into tears again. "How do you stand this, Erik?" she gasped through the tears.

Wrapping his arms around her, Erik rested his chin on top of her head. "When I was a child, I was taken prisoner by a gypsy man who beat and whipped me for public entertainment. People paid him to see him do this, and he made good money off of it. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I suffocated him with the chain meant to keep me in place." Christine knew this story; Madame Giry had told it to her before Christine had gone on to do _Il Muto_. Instead of telling Erik she already knew all of this, she let him continue.

"This man had done horrible, unspeakable things to me for years, and when I killed him, I thought I would feel free; I thought I would feel good about myself. Instead, I hated myself. I wanted nothing more than to go back and stop myself from doing what I did. Anything to stop the guilt from crushing me… But after a while, I started to realize how ridiculous that was. If I hadn't killed him, I would still be his prisoner…or I would be dead.

"The same is true for you now. If you hadn't done what you did, Raoul would have killed me, and you would be his prisoner, to do with as he pleased. I know right now it's hard to see that, but eventually, you'll come to realize it for yourself."

"I feel so filthy, Erik…" she whispered, calming as she listened to him talk.

"It will pass," he told her. "I found my release in music; all you have to do is try and find the way you cane release your guilt."

The carriage door opened, and Brent poked his head in. "It's time to get on board," he told them.

Erik grabbed a cloak and threw it over his shoulders, pulling the hood up over his head. Christine stepped out of the carriage and kept her head down, hoping not to draw too much attention to herself. They only had the one cloak, and it had to be Erik who wore it. Together, the three of them walked towards the ship. They had reached the gangplank that would let them onto the ship when they were stopped.

A security officer stopped in front of them, blocking their way onto the ship. He asked for their tickets, and Christine gave them to him. "I need to see his face," the officer told them. "For the records."

Christine's eyes widened as she fished for a lie, but in the end, it was Brent that saved them. "He can't, monsieur," he told the guard.

"And why not?" the guard asked, crossing his arms angrily.

"He has a terrible condition. If he stands in open sunlight for only one moment, he gets a horrible sunburn. The doctors say that the sunburn could eventually kill him…"

The security officer's eyes widened as he said, "Oh really? How gullible do you think I am?"

Seeing that Brent's bluff wasn't working, Christine let her eyes water as she looked at the guard pleadingly. "Please, monsieur, I'm begging you. We've been through so much to get here, to get away from here, and my poor brother... Please, monsieur, he gets so hurt when he stands in open sunlight, and I can't stand to see him in pain. Can you let us pass, just this once?"

She saw uncertainty cross the guards face, and for a moment, she was worried her would wrench down Erik's hood to see if they were telling the truth. Thankfully, he just nodded and waved them through.

Christine exhaled in relief, taking Erik's hand in hers as they got on board.

What Erik had told her in the carriage had helped calm her, but Christine still felt a crushing weight bearing down on her. Through her guilt, she had the vaguest feeling they had forgotten to do something, and it wasn't until the ride was underway that she remembered what it was. "The horse and carriage...we never sold them," she told Erik one night on their way to America.

Erik shrugged it off. "It'll be alright. We don't need the money from it."

Christine let it go, but she still felt bad that they didn't have the money from selling the horse and carriage. It would have been helpful to them when they got to America. Eventually, her guilt over Raoul came back and drowned out any thoughts she had of the money they could have made.

The ride to America would take two weeks, and during those two weeks, she and Erik stayed below deck in their bunk. They couldn't risk being recognized until they got to America. Brent brought them food and water and news so they wouldn't have to go out. Christine and Erik had adopted Brent, and they officially considered him their son. Most of the trip passed by uneventfully, but on the last night of their journey, Christine found herself having a horrible nightmare.

She was back in the forest, watching Erik falter beneath Raoul's attack. Erik was on the ground, holding his wounded hand to his chest, and Raoul was standing over him, smiling down triumphantly. Christine watched as Erik turned to her, his eyes wide with fear. "Help me, Christine," he called to her, reaching his good hand out to her.

Her mind screamed at her to pick up Erik's sword and run it through Raoul as she had before, but her body refused to respond. Instead, she felt a small smile cross her lips and she crossed her arms over her chest. She watched, almost happily as Raoul brought his sword down and pushed it through Erik's heart. Christine's mind screamed in agony as Erik screamed her name, but instead of collapsing, she moved closer to Raoul, and put an arm around his waist.

They looked down at Erik and Christine heard herself say, "I love you, Raoul." She wanted to slap herself for saying it. She didn't mean it; how could she say that to _him_?

"We could have had this, Christine," he whispered in her ear. "If you hadn't killed me; we could have been happy. Think about it: before you knew Erik was in my basement, we were in love. If you had just waited and let Erik die like he was supposed to, we could have been happy together."

Christine looked at him and found that she could freely speak her mind. Her rage came out in just one sentence: "I could never love you."

The dream began to fade, and as Christine came to, she realized that she was being shaken awake. Her eyes snapped open and she saw Erik standing over her, a worried look in his eyes. "You were screaming in your sleep," he whispered to her. "I was worried something had happened."

"I was…dreaming… I was back in the forest… I watched him kill you… I…I _loved _him…" Christine stuttered, looking Erik in the eyes, losing herself in the deep pools of green. "I was happy to see him kill you…" Tears wove their way down her face as she thought of the smile she had been wearing in the dream.

"It's alright, Christine," Erik said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "It was just a dream. None of that happened. You're still with me and Brent, on our way to America. In the morning, our new life begins."

Christine looked at Erik with wide, trusting eyes. Having him next to her, comforting her, talking about their new life, she felt her guilt over Raoul's killing slipping away with the horror of her dream. Seeing him sitting next to her, Christine knew she did what she had to do. If she had had to spend the rest of her life with Raoul, with no hope of seeing Erik again, she would have killed herself. Now, that future had been averted. She would be able to spend the rest of eternity with her Erik, her angel. And she would never again have to look over her shoulder, worrying that Raoul may be right behind the corner. If she had merely stabbed Raoul and let him live, he would have hunted them down and tried to kill Erik again. There was no way to avoid that if she hadn't killed Raoul. While it wasn't the most comforting thought, Christine found herself able to put her guilt and disgust at herself aside. She could see nothing of her past any more; all she could see was what was waiting for her: a future of happiness with the man she loved.

"I'm going to go back to bed," Erik told her.

He made a move to get up, but before he could leave, Christine grabbed his arm and said, "Stay with me."

Erik smiled and lay down next to her, wrapping his arm around her. They looked up at the deck of the ship that served as the ceiling to their room, their arms wrapped around each other. Christine rested her head against Erik's shoulder. "I love you Erik," she whispered.

"Christine, I will love you until the Earth stops turning. And then some," Erik responded.

She curled up closer to Erik, closed her eyes, and turned her thoughts to their future. When they reached America, a new life would be awaiting them. Christine knew it wouldn't be easy, but they'd make due. As long as they were together, as long as they had each other, she knew there was nothing they couldn't face.


	36. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

She was lying in bed next to the man who was her world. Her adopted son, Brent, and her first child by Erik, their daughter, Nettie, were sleeping in the next room. It was late, and Christine knew she should be sleeping, but she found herself reminiscing. She was thinking about everything that had led her up to this point, from the gala that had now been seven years ago, to the day in the forest when she had killed Raoul, to the day on the ship to America when she had let go of her guilt and anger for what she had done to her childhood sweetheart. Now, none of that seemed to matter anymore. Not now that she was lying in bed with Erik, not now that she had carried and birthed their daughter. Her life in Paris was far behind her, and seemed nothing more than a distant memory.

When they had first arrived at Ellis Island, they had struggled with finding a place to stay and jobs. Eventually, Christine came across a theater called Broadway that was looking for a lead Soprano. At the time, it wasn't huge, but it was still pretty well-known, and paid their cast decently. She auditioned, got the part, and made some serious money off of it. From there, finding a good housing establishment was easy, especially since the people at Broadway kept calling her back to reprise her roles.

Soon after her first production, she, Erik, and Brent moved into a large house in a good neighborhood. They went around and started introducing themselves, and very soon after that Erik told the parents in the area that he was a voice teacher, and his prices were modest. Their house opened up as a school where neighborhood children were taught by Erik to sing and play piano. That added to their income greatly. Once they had really settled in, one year after moving to Manhattan, Christine announced that she wanted to try to have children. And only a handful of months later, she birthed Nettie, their first daughter.

Brent had started attending school, and was now attending a prestigious school for musically gifted children (Erik had soon discovered Brent's singing capabilities, and immediately started to perfect it). Nettie was quickly picking up on her family's talents and would soon surpass her mother in piano. At the moment, Nettie was attending a day school.

For the six years they had been living in Manhattan, and for six years they had built up their fortune and their lives. Christine was happier than she had ever been, and she and Erik were in a great place in their relationship. They had officially married a month after moving to Manhattan, and marriage had made their relationship even better than it had been before.

Most of her ties to Paris had been cut, and only one person remained in Paris that Christine stayed in touch with: Meg. She and Meg wrote back and forth, constantly sharing news of what was happening in both Manhattan and at the Opera Populaire. According to Meg, the opera house was soaring, with a new lead Soprano having replaced Christine.

Rolling over, Christine looked at Erik's sleeping form. He had gotten to a point where he was so comfortable with her, he slept without his mask. Christine was grateful for that; sleeping in the white mask looked so uncomfortable for him. Now, at night, she could look on his whole face, even the deformed side. Though that was how most who saw his face described him, she had never thought of him as ugly, or deformed. Christine saw only a man who she loved beyond anything, a man she would have, and had, killed for.

Everything had been going so well since they had moved to Manhattan, and everything was only going to get better. No matter what happened, no matter what they did, they would always have each other. And as long as she had Erik, Nettie, and Brent, there was nothing in this world that could tear her down.

As she pressed up against Erik and fell back to sleep, Christine thought: _Bring it on, world. I'm ready for you._

* * *

><p>Welp, by my word document count, I reached 68,782 words and 152 pages. There have been a lot of firsts for me over the course of this story, but the biggest first has been: This is my first, true completed story. I want to thank those of you that have been around since the beginning and those of you who just found the story recently. I want to thank you for all of the continued support you gave this story as it progressed! Thank you all so much! Without you all reading and supporting, I don't think there would have been a story to continue! ~Shella DragoNoid<p> 


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